The Dead Chronicles Part Three: Eve of Destruction
by TerminalMadness83
Summary: A familiar face washes ashore and is discovered by the military, but is she safe?
1. Eve of Destruction: Chapter One

I used to hear from people that in the end of the world, doomsday, there'd be plenty to fear. In the end of the world, there'd be a grand war between man that would shake the earth to its core, in the end of the world, there'd be an onslaught of nuclear explosions that would bring upon a nuclear holocaust, in the end of the world there'd nuclear winter and plagues, in the end of the world humanity would no longer exist. They were wrong, there was no war, there was no nuclear winter, but there was a plague, and it snuck in under the radar like the hush of summer.

Before the military could respond, before the big man could turn the keys and press the button, the world was over with the quiet hush of death. Not an army in the world could save us. People, human beings were dead, and just like that… they were alive and became flesh eating monsters, those that were lucky enough, died, those unlucky enough survived, those cursed were eaten and turned into one of those things walking outside, but then again… maybe they were right after all, when doomsday came there was plenty to fear, and it was **_them_…**

** THE DEAD CHRONICLES, PART THREE:**

** EVE OF DESTRUCTION**

Written by Felix Vasquez Jr.

The walking dead.

The "Crossroads" mall.

The city. So fast, and unclear as a lightning strike.

All of it was such a blur, it happened so quickly. The armored bus crashed through the gates slamming through the groups of walking corpses that met them, the millions of walking dead surrounded their bus pounding along the doors. It plowed through the freaks that grabbed at them. The bus overturned throwing the group down, they rushed through the dock, Ana at front as they rushed onto the boat, Ana stood along the deck watching Michael see them off as they sailed along the water, she could still remember the look on his face as he looked down at the bite on his arm. Wanting so bad to go with them, to be with Ana, but doomed to walk the Earth as the undead, the shot of his gun could be heard in the distance as it echoed for miles.

They sat on the boat as Terry hovered around them with the digital camera floating adrift the gentle waves and dark cloudy skies. "Get that camera out of my face!" Ken ordered. They landed along the coast of the island, stepping forward in caution as Chips began barking wildly. Nicole suddenly lost her grip as he rushed off into the woods barking. Nicole rushed after him as shapes zipped through the trees finally coming out of the shadows. Groups of zombies rushed at them as Ken and Ana shot rapidly, Terry's camera falling along the floor of the dock. "Get behind me!" Ken screamed shooting rapidly, "Run!" Ana turned without a moment's hesitation and turned running and screaming.

It was all a blur from there. She couldn't remember what had happened after; but everything suddenly went dark as she turned and fled. Ken's gun could be heard going off in the distance, his cries echoed through her mind, Terry's screams could be heard amidst the rabid growling of the walking dead…and suddenly the darkness was met with echoes of voices and then silence. The stench of rotten flesh whisked through the sea air like a dark cloud, the silence resonating through the air as seagulls broke through the clouds.

The boat floated along the gentle ocean waves, the silence was almost deafening as the sun rose from the horizon spreading a mist of dew along the air. Ana's body lay along the deck, strewn about and unconscious, her gun lying beside her hand as the motion of the boat jerked her head from side to side, her clothes were stained with blood, her arms and forehead black with bruises. The sun shone down onto her hard as her shallow breathing resonated amidst the deafening silence, a distant repeated slamming could be heard by her side. All essence of time had drifted away as she wheezed and struggled for oxygen. Finally, the boat brushed along the tide and came to a sudden halt screeching and scraping along the sand and stopped along the shore of an island as the wind blew through the trees.

Ana suddenly stopped breathing as the slamming beside her continued and the sea gulls landed along the bow. Helicopters could be heard in the sky and slowly their sound became louder as they became closer to the beach. The large black helicopter landed along the sands of the beach. Suddenly, footsteps were heard along the deck, slowly approaching her and stopped at her feet, the barrel of the gun slowly reaching down to her face and nudging her cheek as her head turned to the side. A young officer stood above her looking down as two others crawled along deck.

"What's the status?" a deep voice asked underneath a black mask, a deep audio voice booming through the mask.

"Unconfirmed, sir," the man replied. Two men dressed in full bodied SWAT uniforms, and wearing full black masks slowly walked along the deck and stood by the young officer standing over Ana. "Check her for bites or scratches," the older officer demanded as he kicked her gun into the water.

The two young soldiers tore off their masks from their faces, one was a white shaggy brown-haired young man looking to be in his late twenties, and the other was a black man with a goatee, reached into their pockets. The white officer wiped the coat of sweat from his forehead and pulled out a mask quickly placing it on Ana's face. The black officer rushed over and knelt down grasping her wrists down onto the floor pressing the weight of his knees along her wrists. The young white officer leaned down on one knee as the banging persisted beside him, and he lifted her shirt and pants searching for body wounds.

"Check everywhere," the black officer ordered.

"I know," replied the white officer as he searched over her entire body. Moments passed. "Well?" the black officer asked.

"No wounds," he replied with furrowed brows wiping sweat from his face obviously stressed from the heat and his heavy uniform, "Dear lord she smells bad."

"Looks like she's been to hell and back," his partner replied. The black officer stood up grasping his gun at his side as the young white officer took his mask off her and took off his gloves placing his fingers along the side of her neck.

"Is she dead?" the black officer asked.

"Her pulse is fading, I can barely feel it," he replied, "There's no visible bites or scratches, either."

"What do you think could have happened?" asked the officer.

"Could be a number of things," he explained wiping the sweat from his forehead, "The sun, the heat, maybe thirst. My guess is she probably went unconscious from starvation." He stood over her furrowing his brows, "She's a very pretty girl."

"Ho, geez," his partner scoffed, "You and blondes."

"Shut up," he replied hitting him, "She's dying. Show some respect."

"Medics!" his partner called, "We need a gurney here immediately." Three armed medics ran along the sand with a gurney in tow as armed guards spread around the beach with their guns drawn.

The banging on the boat in the distance drew their attention prompting the black officer to hold his gun up. "We take her, sarge?" the young officer asked.

"Yes," the sergeant replied looking down below the ship in a gutter, "Rush her on a stretcher and take her back to the base for recovery before she gives out." The medics jumped onto the deck and rushed to Anna. The young white officer stood up looking down at her with pity as they grabbed her, lay her atop the stretcher and strapped her body carrying her off. "Lieutenant Paige," the sergeant beckoned. Paige ran along the deck looking back as they carried Ana to the helicopter and stood at attention as the sergeant looked down below the ship.

"Yes sir?" Paige asked saluting.

"Look at this," he said pointing down to the gutter. Paige looked down and furrowed his brows in disbelief as he gazed down wide eyed in horror.

"How did that thing get down there?" he asked.

"That's what ** _I'd_** like to know," replied the sergeant, "I'm calling in some CSI to see how that thing got down there, and how she managed to survived without a bite or scratch on her."

"She smells like seawater… and rotted flesh," Paige explained, "Should I begin calling for back up, sir?"

"No," the sergeant replied gazing down, "I want you to see that the survivor makes it back to base okay."

"Why me?" asked Paige.

"Well, maybe you can make some sense out of her surviving," explained the sergeant, "And you're sweating like crazy."

"It's the heat," replied Paige, "This uniform is very heavy."

"Fine," replied the sergeant, "Go back to base and get something to eat. Cool off."

"Yes sir," Paige replied saluting, "Thank you, sir."

"Has she been bitten?" he asked.

"No, sir," replied Paige.

"Make sure," he explained, "If we bring her back and she's bitten--"

"--I checked her thoroughly," Paige explained, "She's technically in good condition, but her pulse is fading fast and she's likely suffering from anemia."

"What's the rundown of the survivor?" he asked.

"Caucasian female, in her late twenties to early thirties, blonde, possibly about 105 pounds, we found a bruise on the corner of her forehead which may be a possible concussion, and we found a few bruises on her shins, she had no apparent bites or marks but upon analyses there seems to be blood between her fingernails and along her face."

"Which means?" asked the sergeant.

"It's likely she had a scuffle with a few of them and out of some act of god," the lieutenant emphasized in surprise, "made it out unscathed or she encountered someone who'd been bitten."

"**_That_** person?" he asked pointing down into the boat's gutter.

"It's likely," replied Paige looking down at the zombie in disgust.

"We'll begin investigating the scene and take in the stowaway for testing," explained the sergeant.

"But, sergeant, shouldn't he be kill--?"

"—**_Dismissed_**," the sergeant replied walking off as Paige sighed annoyed, looking down at the zombie in disgust. He wasn't really sure if what the sergeant had planned was a good idea, but at the moment he wasn't prepared to argue. Being away from the base always made him nervous, and considering the growing numbers of the infected, he took every opportunity to go back to safety. He wasn't aware how much the infection had taken, how many people were dead, or how bad the carnage had gotten, but he didn't want to know, he just wanted to get back to the base where he'd be safe.

Ana awoke to the bright sky looking down on her and wiped her eyes feeling the hot pavement below her body burning her skin as she staggered woozily, attempting to force her self to stand up. She stretched and yawned aloud as her hair blew into her eyes. There arose an eerie silence as she looked around coming to a sudden frightening realization; she was back at the mall. Back on the roof of the mall except… she was alone. She began panting aloud in fright as she grabbed her head whimpering softly. She looked around for the other survivors but couldn't see them. She looked across the parking lot and saw no sign of Andy. "No…!" she muttered with a whimper. Suddenly a loud slamming broke the silence and she staggered back in fright looking toward the roof door.

They were there banging and growling to get in, she looked around for a gun or weapon, but there was nothing except the signs she and the group had hung. She ran across the roof looking around and scurrying and feeling around as the banging continued. She ran to the edge of the roof and gasped aloud in fright as she looked out onto an ocean of the walking dead. There was nothing but mindless blank mangled faces looking up at her grabbing, as they growled aloud, the endless sea of corpses desperately toppling each other. She looked across the lot and suddenly saw Andy, leaning down with his back turned as he wrote on the marker board. Ana squint her eyes as Andy turned and raised the sign; all she could see was blood spread among the surface. She cried out in terror and looked around whimpering, "Where'd they go…?" she muttered as she began crying aloud, "Somebody, please!"

Suddenly, a low alarming beeping arose as everything faded, almost as a force ripped her from her scenery, and she awoke wheezing loudly, her body retching as she instantly sat up wheezing and began screaming aloud. She tore off her oxygen mask shrieking and looking around at the darkness that surrounded her. She cried out in horror flailing her body as four nurses rushed into the room holding her down as she watched them and screamed in horror. They held her body down as she fought them off crying out horribly, grasping her bed tightly. "We need to sedate her!" A nurse screamed as they attempted to hold her down. She screamed frantically as they stood on top of her holding her body down as a nurse rushed into the room with a needle and injected her IV as the other nurses held Ana's arms and legs down. She continued screaming madly and incoherently as the sedative began to instantly take effect and her frantic screaming quickly faded, her body finally stopped struggling and she dropped laying her head on the pillow, her eyes wide open in horror, tears running down her face, her mouth hanging down as her eyes glazed over.

After two minutes, she'd finally stopped struggling and the nurses began murmuring as she lay still on her bed slowly slipping unconscious. Her vision blurred as the voices of the nurses faded away, and suddenly she, as almost a glimpse of her reality faded away, she could see Michael, standing in front of her with a content smile as her eyes closed and everything went dark in an instant. A sea of darkness enveloped her mind as the sounds faded away, and all she could hear were Michael's last words to her as she left the dock, "It's okay, it's going to be all right". It was a declaration no one believed at the time. She finally awoke again to silence, slowly she regained her vision, as she groaned aloud and opened her eyes slowly, the shine of the fluorescent lights in the distance burning her eyes, all she could hear were distant mutters and her heart monitor beeping, an all too familiar sound to her. She sat up quickly and looked around as corporal Paige stood across from her half concealed behind her curtain. She gasped, yelping aloud.

He stood up quickly as she yelped aloud and he toppled her holding her down as she screamed looking up at him in horror, "Get off me!" she screamed.

"Relax!" he screamed holding her down, "I'm not going to hurt you!" She panted abruptly breaking from her scream and looked up to him wheezing and panting.

"Where am I!" she screamed as she crawled back on her bed in fright.

"Relax, please relax," he urged her, "It's okay."

"Where—where…?"

"Try to gather your self," he urged her, "You're safe. Are you going to calm down?" Ana nodded with a soft whimper, "If you don't," he warned her, "They're going to come in here and pump you with sedative again, and I don't know how much more you can take before you give way. So, relax, for your sake." He panted and eased off her body as he stood up and grabbed his clipboard. 


	2. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Two

"Where am I?" she asked with a soft whimper slowly sitting up.

"Fort Eisenhower U.S. naval base in Florida, ma'am," he replied holding a clipboard. She panted softly still, looking around as her heart monitor beeped softly.

"You're okay," Paige assured her, "You're safe now."

"Where…?" she panted and leaned forward in exhaustion as Paige rushed to her grabbing her by the shoulder slowly easing her back onto the bed.

"Relax," Paige said as he stood over her, "Try not to excite yourself too much. You're in pretty bad shape, and they pumped a hell of a lot of that sedative in you, which is probably why you're not screaming off the top of your lungs, anymore." He grabbed a damp cloth from a dish and began patting her head as she groaned softly, looking up at him as she lay on her bed, exhausted, confused, frightened, and weak.

"Where…am I?" she muttered softly with a whimper.

"Fort Eisenhower U.S. naval base," Paige replied softly, "You're safe, it's okay."

"The…the-the ship," she muttered.

"It's back at the coast," Paige explained, "We found you and took you in…you're safe now…you understand what I'm telling you?" She slowly nodded and attempted to sit up again as Paige grabbed her by the arm and helped her.

"There you are," Paige said as she sat up. She panted as she leaned her head back in exhaustion, Paige slid up a chair and sat in front of her, "I, uh…bet you have a lot of questions to ask, right?" he asked trying to force a smile of assurance to ease her. She held her hand to her forehead and sighed looking around, still trying to comprehend where she was, though the sedative made it hard for her to think straight. Was it all one big horrible nightmare? Was it just a comatose hallucination? Were all those days spent in the mall part of some private hell from a bad injury? Some part of her wanted to think so and expected Louis to walk in to the room any second to check on her.

"So do I," he replied with a smirk, "I got questions five miles long, and I'm still waiting for them to be answered. Let's start at the basics, okay? To put it simple and bluntly, the world is over, it's the apocalypse, we're being overrun by the walking dead who feed on human flesh and anything that isn't dead…anything else?"

"Who--who are you?" she asked disappointed.

"I am Lieutenant Ross Paige of dog company," he explained, "You can call me Ross. I'd say "it's nice to meet you", but under the circumstances…"

"--Where's everyone else?" she asked.

"Around," he replied, "The doctors and nurses are outside waiting for you to wake up so they can examine you."

He stood up turning toward the door as she grabbed his arm with a look of concern, "Wait," she replied, "Please, don't. I'm not ready to be seen yet." He turned to her in concern and nodded sitting down with a half smirk, "Its okay," he replied, "I'll pretend you're still out cold. I understand with all that's been going on you probably got a lot of shit running through your mind and you're not ready to be poked and prodded."

"Yeah," she replied leaning back, "Thank you."

"Do you remember who you are?" he asked holding up his clipboard.

"What?"

"Do you remember what your name is?" asked Ross. She hesitated for a moment and nodded, "Ana," she replied, "My name is Ana."

"Okay," he replied writing on the clipboard, "Hi--Ana." He scoffed in amusement as she nodded and he continued, "How long was I unconscious?" she asked.

"I don't know how long on the ship," explained Ross, "But here you were out for at least three or four days to a week."

"My god," she muttered in realization sighing in disbelief, "It wasn't a nightmare… it was ** _real_**. Oh--" she covered her eyes with her hands and began crying as Ross gave a sustained sigh and patted her arm, "What did they find?" Ana asked wiping her tears.

"Well, considering the blood we found on the ship, you were in basically sound physical condition," he explained, "But your pulse was fading. You're a tough cookie, I'll tell you that. We were doing our daily reconnaissance and we found your boat on the shore. We've still been searching for survivors and vessels for the past months. I guess we've been kind of holding out hope that there is at least someone still alive with all this bullshit going on and we found you. You're the first live person we've seen in--forever."

"A mall," she muttered, "There was—a mall."

"Yeah," he said in interest standing up as he looked through the clipboard, "I interviewed the nurses about your condition and they mentioned you were screaming something about a mall," he looked down at his clipboard going through the pages, "and you mentioned a few names: Michael, Kenneth, and… Louis. So, what about it?" he asked attempting to dig information from her as she struggled to think hard, "What about the mall? Is that where you were attacked? Was that where you escaped?"

"I—don't remember a lot," she replied grabbing her bandaged forehead.

"It's alright," he replied, "Don't think too hard. Give it time. You had a mild concussion, and ** _that_** contributing with the medicine they pumped in to you, you'd understandably be hazy. Do you remember anything else? Any faces, any people, any names? What about survivors?"

"No," she replied grunting softly, "I can't--" She began crying silently as Ross patted her arm, only watching as she rubbed her forehead, still in utter disbelief.

"—Okay," he replied gently rubbing her hand, "It's alright. I'll tell you what: Just lay back and get some rest and we can talk about something else, okay?" She looked over towards the brick wall and instantly a flash of memories dashed through her mind. She could barely make out what it was, but all she could see was Michael's face as he gazed back at her.

"What about survivors?" she asked looking over to Ross who sat up surprised.

"Survivors?" he asked with raised brows, "Well, uh--we only found you and…"

"…and what?" she asked with tears in her eyes.

"Listen, it's been a harrowing week," explained Ross, "You look tired and confused, so I'm going to leave you for a while."

"No," she pleaded, "**_Please_** don't leave me."

"Okay," he replied. He looked back in discontent and sighed gently patting her hand softly, "I'll stay."

"What country are we in?" she asked.

"Florida," replied Ross.

"That's how far we floated," she muttered in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" he asked standing up quickly, "So you're remembering?"

"A little bit," she replied, "Where are…? Where are…?"

"Two thousand feet away from them," Ross assured her, "We're safe here, I can guarantee you."

"Why are you—? I mean you're not a doctor or anything," she said.

"They assigned me to look after you and interview you," explained Ross, "I tell you it wasn't really all that easy."

"You must be dying to leave," she replied.

"Nah," he replied, "I got nowhere else to be right now, anyway. Besides, it's not that bad, and it gets me out of basic for the day. They're working our asses off like we're going to war or something, but I don't see a point, I mean this base is heavily fortified and our skills are being put to waste, I used to be a part of the dog company and I was living over by Pittsburgh and they transferred me here. I really don't see the point of basic anymore, and you don't care about any of this… I'm talking a lot aren't I?" Ana laughed, "No," she replied, "It's comforting."

"Well, good," Ross replied with a nod, "I tend to ramble on and on when I'm excited or nervous."

"Which are you?" she asked with a smile.

"A little of both, actually," he replied with a smile and a smirk, "Excited we found a coherent survivor, the first in four months, and a little nervous, but that's a given with the dead next door."

"What was it like?" she asked, "On the boat and everything?"

"It was bad," he explained with furrowed brows, "You were—lying along the deck, pale, and wheezing pretty hard, there was blood--everywhere. I was one of the men who discovered you. The boat was tilted over on the waters. You would have turned if we hadn't found you."

"Turned?" she asked, "I didn't get bitten."

"Well, we discovered not only bites make people turn," he explained, "Its scratches and anything else that kills you."

"That's insane," she replied.

"It's fact," he argued, "Heart attack, gunshot, if you're around them you become a part of the general population. Get it?"

"You're saying the infection is airborne?" she asked.

"Looks like it," he replied, "This is a very versatile infection. It's incredible, actually, how adamant this infection can become. There's no known immunity for it, no antidote, it's just… permanent, like the perfect disease or something. You get bitten, you die and turn, there's no going back. You die from natural causes, you turn, and that's it. You can't make someone **_not_** be dead. I'm surprised none of the infected found you, you must be touched by god or something."

"I don't believe in god anymore," she replied.

"Same here," replied Ross sitting down, "I think god left the building a long time ago. I figure he must be up there in heaven giving us the finger. But—what'd you expect with all the shit going on? Wars, robbery, rape. Sooner or later he was bound to throw in the towel."

**NEW YORK…**

A match burst with fire amidst the sea of darkness as an older man held the match between his thumb and index finger and slowly lowered it to a large white candle, lit the fuse and quickly blew it out. Suddenly the room seemed to light up revealing a large classroom where papers and overturned desks lay strewn about, some of the orange wood desks were still nailed to the window frames and scattered along the top of the floor shelves serving as barricades. Clark, a middle aged man, held the candle and slowly walked over to the hallway and made his way past the rooms. He turned slightly and gasped aloud looking at a young woman who lay along her desk. She was just a corpse. But regardless of how much he repeatedly reminded himself, she still frightened him whenever he passed the room, and his heart still jumped from his chest.

The clouds coasted along the skies as a sudden deafening silence arose over the streets of New York; it had happened so fast, the outbreak, and before they knew it, so many people who weren't prepared, fought for their lives against the walking dead, it seemed to rush through the city of New York within a matter of days, and no one could stand around and wonder what was happening, because the outbreak had spread faster than a broken dam, "Here," Clark said as he placed the candle along the middle of a desk. Two teenagers sat across one another at a desk, Alex, a blonde young girl, fidgeted nervously, looking around and fiddling her fingers together as she looked around at the classroom, every little creak and groan of the floor drawing her undivided attention.

Her blonde hair hung in front of her eyes as her blood stained face lit up in the candlelight, her clothes were familiar: pajamas. Light blue shirts and shorts torn at the shoulders and knees as she kicked under the desk.

"Is that all you could find?" she whispered.

"It's all, my dear," Clark replied with an air of well manners, "I'm sorry."

"T-T-They're out there," she said with a nervous scoff looking out the cracks of the boarded window, "I heard them this morning."

"They don't know we're here," replied Clark in an assured tone as if he'd told her again and again, "The doors are boarded up and if they did hear us, they'd never get in."

Clark attempted to force a smile of re-assurance as his gray coat hung at his waist, his white blood stained shirt seemed to press up against his chest as his slightly rotund chest shown through the material. "This is fine," Debbie said with a wide smile as she rotated the candle. Debbie was a red-haired young girl, dressed in a sky blue torn shirt, her face almost covered in blood, as her lips quivered amidst her forced smile she gave to instill hope in Alex; though she and Clark knew it was just basically a fool's pursuit. Her long hair hung down over her shoulder, her long bangs drenched in blood as she looked around in the darkness of the small building.

"What time is it?" asked Alex.

"I don't know," replied Debbie as she looked at her watch, "It seems like—four o'clock or something. It's Tuesday… or Wednesday perhaps."

"So—what's the agenda for today?" asked Clark in an upbeat manner almost as if trying to instill a sense of monotony and normality to a far from monotonous situation.

"Agenda?" asked Alex.

"Yes," replied Clark, "We have to keep our sanity somehow, correct? So, why don't we do something to pass the time?"

"How about reading?" asked Debbie with a smile.

"Reading by candlelight," Clark proclaimed, "Very Victorian."

"I hate reading," replied Alex with a pout.

"How about we tell stories?" asked Clark with an inspired smile, "I'm a perfect storyteller. When I taught English in college, I used to spin some incredible yarns, all the students loved it when I told stories! As a matter of fact they liked the stories better than my lessons." He gave a weak bit of laughter.

"I-I know!" Debbie said, "We can play "twenty questions". When me and my friends were pulling a late night at campus, we'd play It to pass the time."

Alex gazed down in sadness, rustling her hair nervously as Debbie and Clark looked over at each other attempting to lighten Alex' spirits; it would have done her good, and it especially would have done ** _them_** some good. "It's too quiet," replied Alex as she looked over at the boarded windows that looked out onto the deserted college campus. Quiet, because they didn't know the three survivors were marooned inside the small library. Groups, dozens of walking dead staggered around the campus. All shades of people, all sizes, and ages roamed around and hovered around the dorms and classrooms. A young black woman, her face mutilated beyond recognition, her legs chewed off, crawled along the pavement, her mangled and chewed legs dragging a trail of meat and bone behind her, crawled along the streets as young college students slowly staggered among one another.

A young man with his book bag still on his back, staggered slowly, his arms out at front as he groaned in anguish. The outbreak had hit the college as it hit the city. The carnage amidst the center of the world was unspeakable and indescribable, skyscrapers burned with black smoke and unending almost infinite flames, the darkness enveloped the entire Times Square which was shrouded in shade. No longer was it the bustling nucleus of New York City; now a graveyard and walking ground for the undead cannibals that populated the world. Cars were toppled and emblazed in flames; bodies lay strewn about at every street corner.

**FLORIDA…**

"There were small sporadic reports of attacks along the country sides, at first," explained Ross, "and then the attacks became more prominent and reports in the news began appearing more and more. I remember they were being described as psychotic lunatics, and they claimed that mental patients broke free from a hospital and were attacking people… but those claims were disputed once the attacks became more vicious and violent."

"Why didn't I see it on the news?" she asked.

"They were just dismissing it as local attacks… and they didn't want to cause a panic, I assume," explained Ross, "It hadn't yet been confirmed that it was a disease causing these attacks… and some people didn't even notice these attacks were happening. And then before anyone knew… it was all over."

"Carnage," Ana declared with a confirmed nod.

"Yeah," Ross nodded, "Just about. More violence than anything I've ever seen in my entire life. Didn't you see it?"

"I saw plenty," she replied, "More than I wanted to. But we hid out in the mall and closed ourselves off to the world. It was all we could think of doing… and then when the stations went off the air, we just—went about our business and thought that basically everything had crumbled and we were the only real people left alive, and we mourned. We mourned for long months. We mourned for our families, we mourned for our friends, and we mourned for civilization. Ten strangers who would never have met in normal life were trying to find solace in each other. It was a really awkward situation as you can imagine."

"There was so much bloodshed," Ross explained in a soft sad whisper, "The stations went off the air, and then the military declared martial law, and your civil rights disappeared in a puff of smoke. Armed guards suddenly appeared as fast as the walking dead did. Stores stopped opening, buildings and city blocks were quarantined. People couldn't go in and out of their apartments."

"Quarantined?" asked Ana.

"Yeah," replied Ross, "They figured only the ghettos were spawning this disease, perhaps a disease being spread from a construction site or something."

"That's disgusting," Ana replied offended.

"What do you expect?" Ross replied, "I **_ used_** to be poor. Whenever a disease starts, whom do they blame? It's only natural thought process, you know? Where else can a disease begin and thrive than in a gutter or ghetto?"

"I remember seeing patients come in by twos before I left work," Ana thought, "Why didn't I notice it sooner? Maybe I could have done something."

"**_No one_** could have done **_ anything_**," Ross assured her sternly, "Trust me when I tell you this. Down in the ghettos, they restricted people from leaving or entering the buildings and they cut off all exits. But the problem was they closed it off so much it became stronger and anyone who came in sight was shot down. But **_ then_** it started hitting the high class districts and shopping areas… and then the suburbs, and then they discovered this wasn't just some run of the mill disease they could stop."

"And the walls came tumbling down," Ana proclaimed looking off in a daze.

He noticed Ana's hand bearing a wedding ring, it was stained with blood and hardly recognizable, but it stuck out.

"You're married," he said as she looked down grasping it with her fingers. "**_Was_** married," she replied saddened.

"I've heard that for months," he explained with a sad sigh, "Everyone I've come across says the same thing to me."

"He was the first one I saw," she explained as she turned it with her fingers, "Had his—neck torn right in front of me…then seconds later…got up…and attacked me." She began whimpering aloud, tears running down her eyes as he looked down expression-less. He didn't have any words to give her, no prayers to tell her because he didn't believe them anymore, no words of faith, because he had none, no sense of optimism, because with the dead waiting outside the door, it was hard to find any sense of it.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, all the words he could muster, and even **_that_** was very hard to conjure from his mouth.

"Oh my god," she said wiping the tears from her eyes, "I have to get up and look for Ken, I mean he's probably looking for me." She began to slip out of bed as Ross stood up confused. "Uh, uh…Ken?" asked Ross fumbling with his speech. She looked up at him scared and afraid to find what Ross would tell her next, "Ken was with me on the ship," she explained, "He was running with me the last time I was awake."

"W-Wha—uh--what does he look like?" asked Ross.

"He's black, bald, he has a small goatee, he's actually really huge," she replied with a smirk.

"Oh," Ross replied with dread, "Ana… maybe you should sit down."

"Why?" she asked.

"We can see him later," Ross said forcing a smile as he attempted to force her back into bed.

"Where's Ken?" she asked looking around, "I want to see him."

"We'll go to see him in time," Ross said, "Meanwhile let's get you into some fresh clothes, eh?"

"Where's Ken!" she replied as Ross sighed.

"Trust me, Ana," Ross warned, "You don't want to see him."

"Take me to him," she ordered with tears in her eyes.

"Ana, I--"

"--Now!" she screamed, "Please…!" She forced herself from the stretcher and began tearing off her IV's as Ross stood up rushing to her, her heart monitors began beeping wildly as she stood up. She staggered for a moment and went limp falling on Ross who held her up.

"Ana, enough," he said as she forced herself to stand up, "You're still weak and recovering."

"Let me go," she insisted, "I have to see him."

"Alright, alright, **_alright_**!" he replied. He sat her down on the bed and backed up, "But just sit down and I'll get the nurses to unhook you properly, okay? Will you at least do that?" He eased her down back onto the stretcher and began backing up, "Just calm down," he said, "Calm down."


	3. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Three

They rushed through the halls as Ana observed the gray brick corridors stretching for miles with air ducts above them, very little light glimmering down on them as they rushed through the dimly lit doorways. They approached the end of the corridor where seven armed soldiers stood guard, they saluted and Ross stepped forward.

"We're here to see the stowaway from that yacht we found off the coast of Florida," Ross explained.

"Do you have authorization?" he asked.

"He's a friend of mine, asshole," Ana replied.

"Ana!" Ross exclaimed, "Relax."

"Sorry," she replied, "I need to see my friend… please?"

"Sorry, ma'am," the soldier declared, "No one comes here without proper authorization."

"Please," Ana pleaded. The soldier groaned looking over to Ross who gave a nod. The soldier sighed looking over at the battered Ana and turned unlocking the gate as they entered and looked out onto a row of four covered windows that led to a dead end. Ross stood beside Ana walking along with her and began, "Ana, what you're about to see might be too much to handle," he explained, "Are you sure you want to see this?"

"Just tell me something," she asked, "Did he...?" she covered her mouth whimpering knowing the answer to the question she was about to ask and wiped her tears, "Did he...survive?" Ross gave an instant look of dread and nodded slowly as she whimpered aloud leaning against the wall.

"Let's go," Ross replied.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"It's an observatory," replied Ross, "For the doctors, I don't know if we're even supposed to be here---"

"—Are these rooms?" she asked pointing at the windows.

"Yes," replied Ross, "But--"

"--Is he in one of these rooms?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied sadly, "We should go."

"I want to see him," she replied sternly as she stepped forward.

"Ana," Ross argued.

"Please," she pleaded in tears, "Please!"

"Fine," he replied with a sigh, "But we have to stay here." He stepped forward and opened up a small slot on the wall revealing a red button. "We'll be able to see him, but he won't see us," Ross explained, "The windows are re-enforced and shatter proof and there's no mode for escape for them so we're safe...okay?" She nodded silently preparing for what she was about to experience and wiped her tears. He pressed the button as instantly the gray blinds that covered the glass on the other side slowly slid open revealing a small brick room without windows. A large shape moved from within the room and stepped forward revealing itself to be Ken. "Ken..?" Ana whispered. Ana lurched back squealing in fright and gasped aloud in disbelief as Ken stood against the window, his eyes white as pearls, his skin torn from his arms and legs and neck, his security officer outfit ripped as he raised his blood soaked arms up against the glass and slammed his fists against the window growling furiously. "Oh my god," Ana replied crying aloud, "No, no."

She nodded her head in utter disbelief whimpering aloud as she dropped to her knees, tears running down her eyes as Ken slammed his fists desperately against the glass growling aloud. "Are you going to be okay?" Ross asked stepping forward in concern. She panted suddenly going dizzy and went limp as she fell in Ross' arms fainting. "Guard!" Ross screamed, "Guard, we need some help here!" He staggered struggling to hold her in his arms as the guards rushed through the halls with their guns drawn. It was all pretty much a blur as she lost consciousness; the mist and haze dropping over her mind as the voices echoed through the halls. She slowly awoke to the dim lighting above her on the ceiling and came to sitting up as she realized she lay in a stretcher in the middle of a hospital room. The room was bright and she stood underneath the sheets noticing Ross who sat across from her asleep. He awoke hearing her turn and sat up instantly as he saw Ana sitting across from him gazing into space.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"Three hours," he replied stretching, "You scared the shit out of me."

"Were you here for three hours with me?" she asked with a half smirk.

"Well..." he said with furrowed brows moving his chair in front of her, "Yeah... I kind of...was worried about you." She smiled leaning her head against her knees as she looked around.

"I'm sorry," she replied with tears in her eyes.

"No, **_I'm_** sorry," he insisted, "It was really stupid of me to show you that. I got in really big trouble," he scoffed with raised eyebrows, "Really?" asked Ana.

"Yep," he replied, "My superior chewed me out for an hour, and he wants to see me again later on."

"I'm sorry," she replied.

"No," he explained, "It's okay. I shouldn't have done that. I just kind of felt bad and thought you needed closure."

"It gave me closure," she replied, "Not the type of closure I wanted, but it helped me. Where am I?" she asked.

"The base hospital," replied Ross, "You're perfectly secure here, don't worry."

"For the first time in weeks I feel safe," explained Ana.

"I knew you'd take it hard," explained Ross, "You shouldn't have seen what you saw back there, especially when you're like this all battered and heavily medicated."

"He was fine," she insisted, "he was fine, he was with us, he--" She sighed aloud as tears ran down her face and Ross rubbed her back gently, consoling her as she whimpered. "Do you remember what happened to you?" asked Ross.

"Me and a group of other survivors barricaded ourselves in a mall for a few months or so… I don't know," she explained, "When we got restless we decided to make a break for it and tried to escape. It didn't go how we planned, but...a few of us managed to escape on a boat. Me, a security guard Terry, a young girl named Nicole...and a police man Ken--"

"—The man I saw," Ross replied.

"Yes," Ana replied, "There were a lot of signs that told us we were making a big mistake, but—we still needed to grab on to hope. It was all we had. We lost a lot of friends back in the city. It went from a group of ten to fifteen down to only four of us. When we arrived on the island there were just hundreds of them waiting for us and that was it. Nicole went first, I saw her die in front of me...and she died a horrible death, and then Terry was killed only minutes later. His screams… I can still hear 'em. We'd finally managed to reach the docks and I turned to run, lost my footing, fell into the water and it's really all just a blank from there on. I just wish I knew what happened to Ken."

"When your boat washed ashore you were found lying along the deck unconscious," Ross explained, "You were dangerously malnourished and anemic, and after the basic body search for scratches or bites, we took you aboard as fast as possible. When they discovered Ken, he'd already turned and attacked us. He took down one of our men...it took seven rounds to bring him down. After that I went aboard and didn't see when they captured him. From what the investigators think, judging by the smell of you when you washed up, you fell into the water, and then Ken saved you and carried you onto the ship. By my count, he sustained fourteen to twenty bites all over his body, but judging by his size, he kept fighting and didn't stop until you were on the boat safely. By that time he most likely put the boat out to sea and fled. We found him locked below in the deck, and he looked like he locked himself in and threw away the key to keep from hurting you when he turned. He must have been one tough son of a bitch to take on those freaks and carry you to safety all by himself."

"He was," she replied wiping tears from her eyes, "He helped us so much. I could never feel safe without him being around."

"God Damn it," Ross muttered nodding as he gazed ahead, "You must have seen some shit going down back there."

"What about you?" she asked looking over to him, "What did **_you_** see?"

"Carnage...destruction...non-stop violence," he replied gazing down blankly, "Too much violence for one human to see. I saw the population of 8 billion people shrink down...to a mere one million in only days…and then further down more and more."

"How long has it been since it began?" she asked.

"Seven months by my estimate, I don't know" he explained, "And it's a safe assumption that it's all over. Civilization has ended."

"How did this start anyway?" she asked, "Does anyone know that?"

"I don't know," he replied patting his legs, "**_No one _**knows what happened, when or where it started, who or what started it. The military has stopped sending rescue parties out to save others, because there aren't much of them out there."

"Is the entire world experiencing this?" she asked.

"I don't know that, either," he replied, "We've been trying to get in contact with our allies across the sea. We sent out radio signals to the UK and Germany, but there's been very little hope in coming in contact. Our radio transmission is down, and there hasn't been any replies since this happened. The last I heard, Chicago, Britain, and Canada were experiencing an outbreak of the infection, and we never really approached it further since the radios went down. Who knows?"

"Did **_you_**...lose anyone?" she asked gently.

"I lost a lot of people," he replied nodding in disbelief, "I had...such a big family. I left that morning because of the attacks...when you lose someone you start thinking... "I should have said more"..."I could have told them that, that I love them"..."that I cherished them"...my mom, father, sister...brother...wife...kids...my best friends...all gone. And if...by a slim chance that any of them are alive...they might as well be dead...because there's no way I can look for them." She put her hand on his gently and consoled him as he simply gazed down thinking back. He was too shocked to cry, his eyes had seen so much violence and terror and carnage, all he could do is look back and try to remember them.

"Why is he in a cage like some animal?" asked Ana.

"I don't know," replied Ross, "I'm only a corporal. Everything around here is on a need to know basis and they're not telling me a whole lot concerning their containment of the dead, but I assume it's for some experiment to look for a cure."

"He should be let go," explained Ana.

"Get that out of your head," he ordered sharply and sternly, "Get that thought out of your head, right now, do you understand me? Don't pack it in yet and get in to the denial phase, not now. I can tell by the way you look, that you saw just as much shit as I did, probably even more, and don't you sit there making your self pretend that that thing behind that glass is the guy you knew."

"But, he--"

"--Listen!" Ross replied sternly as she began to whimper, "Those things aren't human anymore...those are monsters. Do you understand me? This is a war we're losing and it's because of people like you who think those monsters out there still have a memory of who you were. You think those things out there give a fuck about who you are? No. They only have two goals: eat and kill. Now get those thoughts out of your head, **_now_**, because as of this moment we need you. We need you sane and sound, because your sanity is all you have right now. Come to your senses." She sneered at him angrily meeting eyes with him; he was right and she knew it but no matter how hard she tried, but all she could think about was Ken in that room.

"You know, back in the city, we raided an apartment complex, those people were storing their dead relatives in the basement," he explained in a tone of disbelief, "That could be why this happened, people's refusal to let go. In order to stop a disease you have to find a way to kill it, and people refused to let their loved ones go, so the disease survived, and it flourished and got stronger. We ended up having to blow the entire building up with everyone inside, living and dead…which is why you just have to face that **_Kenneth_** is dead," he explained as she gazed up at him.

"As of now," Ross said walking over to a bag, "I got you something." He picked up a pile of clothes and boots and placed them on the foot of the bed.

"What's this?" she asked softly.

"Clothes," he replied, "I, uh… hope they fit. It's really just jeans and a shirt, and boots; standard issue."

"Thanks," she replied forcing a smile.

"There's a shower in the bathroom back there," he explained, "You can take your time. You look like you haven't had a shower in a long while. I have to meet with my commanding officer--"

"For what?" asked Ana.

"Probably to be yelled at… a lot," Ross replied, "Everyone else has done that except him."

"Will you be back?" she asked.

"I will in about an hour," Ross replied, "And even if I'm not, there are guards and nurses walking around who can help you get settled in." She drew a look of horror as he prepared to leave, "I'll be right back," Ross assured her, "Okay? I promise."

"Okay," she replied.

"Get settled in," Ross ordered, "Relax, take a long shower, do—whatever women do when they're trying to relax."

"Listen--," she said as he was about to walk off, "I really am appreciative of what you did for me. I know I'd be dead if it wasn't for you rescuing me in that boat out there."

"It's okay," he replied patting her hand.

"I feel like I have a second chance here," she declared.

"It's going to be okay, here, Ana, I promise," replied Ross in a more cheerful positive declaration, as she nodded. It was a promise he just couldn't keep, but he felt so inclined to give her a glimpse of hope, regardless of how small, "Well, get dressed and we'll get you to your quarters and we'll check this place out. I'll meet you outside in one hour." He walked off as she grabbed at her clothing and sighed leaning her head against her knee attempting to comprehend the severity of her situation; everyone she knew was gone from her life, and it'd be hard attempting to rebuild everything and settle in.

"Are you out of your fucking mind!" A Colonel screamed in Ross' face as he stood up with his arms behind his back staring ahead and stone faced.

"No sir," Ross replied meekly.

"What in the mother fucking name of god were you thinking Lieutenant! Tell me, are you **_happy_** with your current rank!"

"Yes sir."

"Then why in the holy name of god would you do such a mother fucking stupid thing as taking a civilian, an **_unhealthy_** civilian in a heavily secured area to see one of those things!" he screamed.

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know!" He screamed, "Boy, I'm doing everything in my power to keep from taking a bayonet and shoving it up that lily white ass of yours and using you as a popsicle for those monsters out there! Do you want that, Lieutenant!"

"No sir."

"Then what possessed you to commit such a dischargeable offense such as that, corporal!" He screamed.

"I—I don't know sir," replied Ross.

"I'm getting really fucking sick and tired of hearing those words come out of that mouth of yours, why you even survived this thing with such utter reprehensible stupidity is beyond me, so help me god if you ever do such a stupid thing like that again, I'll strip you down to Private and put you out there so fast they'll take your head off before it can spin, do you understand me!"

"Yes sir!"

Ana emerged from the shower with her towel wrapped around her body and wiped her hand against the fogged up mirror.

"Alright," Michael announced standing in the middle of the mall lobby bouncing a basketball, "Who wants some?" The entire group slowly looked over at him confused. It was their first time meeting, everyone, and the mall was unusually quiet that day. No one wanted to talk to one another, especially after their new stalwarts had arrived, "What are you doing?" asked Steve.

"Come on," Michael insisted, "No one knows how to play basketball here?"

"We're not in the mood," replied Monica.

"Look, I'm bored," Michael insisted, "And I know someone here can give me a run for my money, now come on."

"Fine, I'll play," Ana replied walking to him as she tied her hair in a ponytail, "I'm on your team."

"Good," Michael replied nodding silently to her, "Come on, anyone else?"

"Will someone play with Larry Bird here so he can shut up?" asked Steve. Ken gave a loud sigh and stood up, "Alright," Ken replied standing up, "You're going to regret putting down the challenge."

"We'll see about that," Michael declared waving the ball at Ken's face.

"Who wants to be with me?" asked Ken bouncing the ball.

"I want to play," CJ announced pressed against the gate drawing everyone's attention. "Anyone **_else_**?" asked Ken.

"Come on, man," CJ insisted, "I been in here for a while, at least let me come out to shut that shit head up. I'm not going to try any tricky shit, alright?" Ken and Michael looked over to one another and nodded, "Fine," Michael replied, "Terry?"

Terry rushed over to the gate and rattled his keys unlocking the metal gate as CJ slowly emerged from the gate. Terry closed the gate behind him locking the door in front of Bart, "You're a real dick, Terry," Bart replied.

"Alright," Michael proclaimed, "Me and Ana against you and CJ."

"I want to be on Michael's team," CJ declared, "I want to put some respect in this shit head." Ken furrowed his brows arrogantly.

"Ana?" Michael asked looking over to her.

"Doesn't matter to me," Ana replied patting her sides, "We're still going to beat you." Ken chuckled as CJ took off his shirt and stepped forward.

"Alright, then," Michael said gripping the ball, "Let's do it."


	4. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Four

**NEW YORK…**

"I'm a celebrity," Debbie began faking anxiousness, "I won two Academy awards."

"I don't know," replied Clark with a smirk.

"I starred with Woody Allen in a hilarious comedy," she explained.

"Diane Keaton," Clark answered as Debbie laughed.

"Damn," replied Debbie.

"How many was that?" asked Clark.

"Four—I think," replied Debbie.

The sky rumbled with thunder and lightning causing an explosive roar that made the group flinch in fright.

"Rain, thank god," replied Debbie.

"It's warm," Clark said rustling his shirt for air.

"In summer the smell will be unbearable," explained Debbie.

"Do we have enough food?" asked Alex.

"Sure," Clark said patting her hand, "Relax, dear. We're fine here."

"Okay, okay," Debbie said instantly changing the topic to keep Alex' worries at bay, "Now **_you_** ask **_me_** questions, Alex."

"I don't want to play this game," she replied.

"Come on, I'm good at it," Debbie pleaded.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Clark said standing up.

"Hurry up," Alex pleaded nervously, "Please." As the outbreak hit the country, New York had been hit slower than others due to the massive population and countless streets and walkways, but nonetheless, they were hit hard. Alleyways were first, then ghettos and finally major shopping centers and suburbs.

It'd seemed like years, but it was really only months. People had fled New York, leaving behind all belongings, others had stayed and fought the corpses, few survived except for the three held up in the small library among the college. Clark Murdock, a kind middle aged English professor, white hair draped over his face and a bit of a stout physique, Debbie a med student, and Alex, a fourteen year old girl who'd discovered the worst of the outbreak and gained a severe nervous condition, all three stranded in the middle of the city with no hope, and no sign of rescue. Clark walked through the dark hallways and stepped into the room where a small communications radio stood. He flicked on the light and turned it on listening to the high pitched feedback, put the radio to his mouth and continued his desperate search for human life.

"This is Clark Murdock," he continued, "I and two others are stuck in a library in the middle of New York City… our food and resources are running low, we're stuck in the dark with the infected outside and we need assistance as soon as possible. If there is anyone out there, please rescue us. I have a little girl and young woman with me and they require immediate medical assistance." He released the button awaiting a response and began flicking through the radio channels. It was basically the same routine for three weeks, hoping and longing for human response, flicking through channel one, then two, until channel ten, and then over again three times before he gave up. He didn't bother telling the girls of his habit so he wouldn't instill false hope, but within him, he knew they'd be dead within a couple of weeks. The silence, and tension was unbearable for them all, knowing they were only inches from being ravaged by the dead was more than their psyches could handle, but he'd try to make it an enjoyable final couple of weeks.

**FLORIDA…**

Ana walked out of her hospital room dressed and cleaned as Ross turned raising his brow in surprise, "Wow," he muttered.

"What?" she asked lifting her arms.

"You--fix up good," he replied, "You ready?" They began walking down the hall as soldiers brushed past them armed with guns as she observed the closed quarters and white corridors.

"When did they build this?" she asked.

"Back in 1990," explained Ross, "This used to be a holding station for illegal immigrants who were caught by the National Guard. When the attacks started this was all just basically empty and being used to store supplies, and the military fled here and set up shop. Two weeks later when all hell had broken loose, we began bringing in what survivors we could."

"How many did you find?" asked Ana.

"At first, none," Ross explained, "But as time went on, we found more and more. In whole we have about one-thousand or so holding up here."

"There are a lot of twists and turns," Ana said looking around at the halls, "How do you find your way?"

"At every corner you'll find maps that will lead you somewhere in case you get lost," Ross assured her, "It's easy to find your way around."

"It's quiet down here," she said hugging herself.

"We're two hundred feet above the surface. Way down below in the basement, there's the empty level where we keep out the infected, on the second level there's the ammunitions room, third level you'll find the stock room, fifth are the living quarters and, fourth here we're at the hospital, there's at least ten feet of concrete between floors. The elevators can only be accessed through keycard which every officer has."

"Why's that?" she asked.

"If someone got stuck in there and the infected broke in, it'd be a death trap," he replied.

"That's… very re-assuring," she joked.

"Well, it's all we got," he replied with a grin, "but they're out."

"What's this?" she asked pointing at the map, "That red zone?"

"That's where the soldiers train," he replied, "We keep our special projects and armory in the next level, just in case."

"Were there--any other survivors captured?" she asked.

"Some," he replied, "A lot were saved from different cities when the chaos began. We got one woman from Detroit, a young boy from New York, and a young couple from Atlanta. At first we figured there weren't any survivors, but we started retrieving some after a while." They walked through the booths where people sat along the stretchers bandaged and recovering; Ana could barely bat an eye away from their grim faces as the nurses sewed up the victims.

"Notice how no one in here is in critical condition," explained Ross, "Most of the people in here suffered injuries from trying to escape; others suffered heart attacks from the fright of the situation. The people whom are sick are stored in thick plastic containers and monitored regularly."

"What about the infected?" she asked.

"Well..." he replied raising his brows suggestively, "the infected are disposed of."

"How?" she asked.

"They're...disposed," he replied nodding, "That's all I can really say to you."

"Nurse?" a doctor called from afar, "Can we get a nurse here, already?" Ana walked over towards the curtain and slid it open looking onto a little brown haired boy who sat at the edge of the stretcher gazing off into the distance. She picked up his chart from the edge of the stretcher and analyzed his clipboard as a nurse rushed over to them.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I was a nurse," Ana explained, "I can handle him."

"No, you don't have to," explained Ross, "We have people here—"

"—It's okay, really," Ana assured him, "I used to do it when I was staying at the mall." The nurse looked over to Ross who stood minding them with his arms crossed. He shrugged and scoffed, "You heard her, go care to someone else," he replied as Ana went to work.

"What's your name?" she asked taking his pulse.

"Gary," he replied meekly.

"Hi Gary," she replied with a smile, "I'm Ana. How old are you?"

"El--even," he replied gently.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Ross.

"He's in shock," explained Ana, "Don't you have cases on the survivors?"

"They're locked under authorization," replied Ross, "It'd be too brutal to read them, but we have about fifty others with the same condition, it's becoming as common as a cold."

"Lost his family perhaps," Ana said rustling his hair as he gazed down blankly.

"He needs to have his blood drawn," she said slipping the chart into the shelf. "I'm not touching that section," Ross joked cringing backing up.

"All the stuff you went through and you don't want to see this?" Ana scoffed patting his stomach, "Relax, cowboy; I used to do this to kids like this all the time." She proceeded with her learned nursing abilities and began wrapping the band around his arm and tapping for a vein. "Hey Gary," she whispered with a gentle smile as he looked up at her, "You have any hobbies?" Gary nodded with a hint of a smile.

"What are they?"

"I like Superman," he muttered with a smile.

"Okay, I want you to be brave and strong like Superman, okay?" she said with a playful whisper, "Can you flex your muscles for me?" Instantly he smiled and flexed his arms up. Ross and Ana laughed as she prepared the needle. "I need you to be brave, okay? You're going to feel a little pinch," she explained. She stuck the needle into his wrist as Gary cringed in pain. She took out the blood valves and took out the needle rubbing his wound with a cotton swab. "That a guy," she said with a big smile, pinching his cheek playfully.

"He's fine," Ana said caressing his hair as he gave a half smile, "Right?" Gary nodded and looked down blankly as she walked off.

"I think he has a crush on you," Ross declared as Ana looked back at him smiling. "You were a nurse?" Ross asked, "I'm surprised."

"Why's that?" she asked smiling in amusement.

"I figured you for a dancer or...sculptress," he explained as she chuckled.

"A dancer?" she asked with furrowed brows, "Smooth."

"What? That wasn't a pick up," Ross replied loudly as Ana walked off smiling, "Honestly!"

"I'm flattered," she replied with a big smile, "What were you?"

"Navy SEAL," replied Ross, "Basically it's the same thing I do now, but I'm a corporal now."

"How did you get into the military?" she asked.

"Family thing, you know? Father was in the army, his father's father, the whole deal," he joked, "But a lot of the soldiers here are basically forced to be soldiers. Gary by the doors used to be a beat cop, Ritch used to be a forensics investigator, Roger was a sniper. All of them were just regular men who had to go in to duty."

"You don't seem to mind it much," Ana observed.

"Well, I get to show **_you_** around," Ross replied. Ana crossed her arms furrowing her brows and scoffed, "Okay," Ross proclaimed, "**_That_** was a pick up."

They stopped at the elevator as Ross slipped his card through the slot prompting it to rise in front of them. "Where do you wanna go now?" he asked, "We have some quarters set aside for you up above."

"Quarters?" she asked.

"It's a—room in the public area," Ross explained, "It's small but it should do for you, and you'll live among the general population below."

"How about the training gym?" she asked enthusiastically.

"I--don't know about that," Ross replied, "That's mostly for authorized personnel."

"Aren't **_you_** authorized personnel?" she asked.

"Yeah, but--"

"--Then take me to see it," argued Ana with a smile as she entered the elevator, "I want to see if you're a good shot."

"Hey, I'm good, but I'm not the best," Ross advised her waving his finger.

"Come on," Ana insisted smirking.

"Fine," Ross replied with a heavy sigh, "Women." He pressed the button for the level. As the doors slid close he scoffed and declared, "I'm going to be scrubbing latrines by the end of the week." and they finally stopped at a gated entrance. Ross pushed the gate to the side as they walked down a dim corridor where shots rang out and loud talking could be heard. They finally looked out onto a wide open gym where a row of men dressed in bulletproof uniforms shot at targets from across the room.

"Hey Ross," a soldier called, "What the fuck is she doing here?"

"She wanted to take a look at the station," Ross replied.

"She doesn't have authorization," he argued.

"Fuck your authorization," replied Ross, "I'll watch her."

"I heard the colonel tore you a new asshole this morning," joked an officer as a group of soldiers laughed.

"Maybe I'll call him down to do the same to you," explained Ross, "Last I heard, you enjoy being torn a new one other soldiers." The soldiers laughed.

"Fuck you," he replied as the group laughed.

"Hey Ross," An officer asked calling to him. Ross walked over to him as Ana looked out on to the rows of shooters who were blasting rapidly. She felt compelled to cover her ears and cringed as the shots rang out.

"Yeah, what is it?" asked Ross.

"Let me ask you something," he said leaning down with a whisper, "Why **_did_** you show her what you did?" Ross furrowed his brow and looked at him confused, "I don't get it," replied Ross.

"Well, why did you take her to see her dead friend when you knew it was frowned upon?" he asked with a whisper.

"Frowned upon?" Ross asked in disbelief, "Pissing in the hallway is frowned upon, they chewed me out like I killed the president or something. I was trying to be nice," Ross replied, "I was giving her closure."

"Don't be coy," he argued, "**_Honestly_**."

"Honestly," Ross insisted.

"Fine," he replied, looking back at Ana, "I know why you did it," he smiled looking back at Ana who was watching the soldiers shooting.

"What? No!" Ross argued catching on to his explanation, "You perverted fuck, I was being nice."

"**_Sure_** you were," he replied batting his brow to her, "Its them blondes," he scoffed with a shrug, "They always do you in."

"You're sick, you know that?" Ross replied patting his shoulder, "You need some sleep and medical attention, **_quickly_**."

"Hey, I think she's cute too," he argued with a half smirk, "I mean she has a nice ass, and a cute face."

"Shut up," Ross replied scoffing and smirking, "Just shut up, you old bastard."

"Deny it all you want," he replied as Ross walked off, "I know your game."

"Get some sleep!" Ross declared annoyed as he stood beside Ana.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"I don't know," replied Ross, "Guys around here like to bust each other's balls."

"They can really shoot well," Ana acknowledged.

"Yeah, one main thing you need to learn, especially nowadays are marksman skills," explained Ross.

"And you're not the best?" joked Ana with a sly smile.

"No, I mean, I'm damn good, but not great," bragged Ross batting his brow.

"Oh you're such a snob," Ana joked poking him with her elbow.

"Hey, I was the best in my **_company_**," Ross declared, "So, that counts for something, doesn't it?"


	5. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Five

They began walking the line of shooters observing their amazing shots against the targets, and finally stopped at the end of the row as an younger man with short black hair, and a weathered grimace shot rapidly at the target, emptied his clip with one hand and reloaded once more, shooting at accurate precision all within seconds and never losing focus on his target ahead.

"Who's that?" asked Ana, impressed.

"Private Rodriguez," explained Ross, "he's the best shot in the station."

"Well, why isn't he up there?" she asked.

"Because they're saving him," Ross bragged.

"Private Rodriguez," Ross called, "Come here a sec." He holstered his gun and walked over to them with a somewhat confident swagger and stood beside Ross with a stone-faced grimace.

"Private Rodriguez," Ross began, "Meet Ana."

"Ana," the lieutenant acknowledged shaking her hand, "Very nice to meet you."

"You too," she replied, "Lieutenant."

"Call me Casper."

"Casper?" she asked furrowing her brows.

"As in the ghost?" he replied sarcastically displaying a faint smile, "You don't look like a soldier."

"She's one of the survivors off the yacht," explained Ross.

"That one we found by the coast?" he asked, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she replied.

"Fucked up shit what happened to you," he explained, "You're very lucky you survived."

"Thanks," she replied uncomfortably, "You're a great shooter."

"The best," he boasted, "the army wishes they had me on their squad."

"He learned all his shooting growing up in the hood, right Rodriguez?" Joked a soldier as the officers laughed.

"Hey, fuck you, Marco," he replied giving him the finger.

"You're not--?"

"--I **_used_** to be SWAT," explained Casper, "But when that sick shit happened, they brought me here. I'm not the original article, but I'm twice as good."

"You're really good," she declared.

"I'm the only one here who can draw at a lightning speed and shoot accurately," he bragged, "Those dip shits don't know a gun from their cock."

"Hey, I can give you a run for your money, shit head," Ross argued.

"Anytime," Casper challenged, "You'll take score, Ana, okay?"

"Okay," Ana scoffed shrugging.

"You're going to be staying a while?" asked Casper.

"I guess," she replied looking over at Ross.

"Good," replied Casper, "You're a sight for sore eyes." He smirked and walked back over to the table as Ross gave a light sigh of discontent.

Casper walked over to the counter loading his gun as Ross and Ana approached him standing behind him, "When fucking with those freaks, you have to shoot them in the head," Casper explained.

"I know that," she replied, "It takes them down permanently, anywhere else is just a waste of time."

"Wow," Ross replied surprised, "How'd you know that?"

"We fought a few of them when we arrived at the mall," she explained.

"Did you handle any firearms when you were up there?" he asked.

"Lots of them," she replied as she began holding the guns, "Me and a group of people were held up in a mall for months. After a while you kind of pick up a thing or two with so much free time, you know?"

"It happens," replied Casper, "Survival is one of our best traits. Which is why you and I are talking, and it's why so many of those bastards are walking around. I look at it as sort of a back handed trait."

"How long is this going to go on until somebody does something about it?" she asked angrily.

"Who knows?" replied Ross, "Could end tomorrow, could end next week, but if I had to put any money on it, this is the world from now on. That life you had, where you came from is gone, now."

"That can't be it," argued Ana.

"Then why is it?" asked Casper, "Face it, Ana. This is the end of the world and you should be getting down on your knees thanking that bastard we call the good lord you're alive."

"What's the point if I have to fight every moment I'm awake?" she asked.

"Worked for the Jews, it works for me," replied Casper, "I look at it this way: the sooner you accept that the world is over and this is your current life, the longer you'll survive. Familiarize yourself with this place and the weapons and you'll be fine."

He cocked the gun, raised his arm, aimed and shot the target in the middle of the head and looked over to Ana who gazed down thinking heavily. It was a hard admission, considering her life before the apocalypse was so prosperous, but the more she admitted it, the more she started to accept it. Casper continued shooting as Ross caressed Ana's back gently, "Who did you lose?" she asked as Casper suddenly stopped shooting. He reluctantly lowered his gun and coughed as if pushing back his emotions. He leaned down against the counter and stood up trying to focus, "My, uh...my wife and daughter," he explained, "she...she was pregnant with our second child when all hell broke loose. I... when I tried to get to her she was already dead...and...I saw her...eating my daughter. She wasn't my wife anymore; she had this look in her eyes, a look I never saw before. I could swear though that for a second, she realized who I was, and then she came at me." He cleared his throat and focused again holding the gun up but never really shooting, "I put a bullet in my wife's head," he said softly scoffing in disbelief, "I put a bullet in my daughter's head... and I ran."

"I'm sorry," she said meekly as he sighed.

"Its fine," he replied patting her shoulder, "Right now, we have to just stick together and fight, understand?" She nodded as he grabbed the guns from the counter. "You know how to fire one of these?" he asked handing her the gun. She nodded and he put the gun in her hand standing behind her as she looked across to the target. "Load the cartridge," Casper explained as she grabbed a bullet cartridge, loading it into the bottom of the gun, "Raise your arm up and aim," he continued as she began aiming, "And aim only for the head, and shoot." She shot the gun hitting the shoulder and she panted as he moved closer, "That's okay," he replied, "Concentrate and aim for the head." She shot again this time hitting it in the head and took a deep breath lowering the gun. "Always in the head," he replied determined as Ana began shooting again, "Always in the fucking head."

"Remember," Kenneth ordered sternly, "You have to shoot them in the head. Anywhere else and you're just wasting our ammo." Kenneth stood behind the line of the survivors who held up their guns aiming at figures down in the distance. Nicole sat on a small pillar as the group had taken fifteen gray mannequins from each store, propped them up alongside one another, and scattered along the lobby as Micheal, CJ, Terry, and she pointed their guns and shot the empty gun mock aiming.

"This won't be so easy with real bullets," CJ acknowledged.

"How do you mean?" asked Micheal.

"There's a jerk whenever you shoot a semi-automatic, especially a 57 Magnum," CJ explained, "So it could hold you back when you're shooting like that and running."

"I know how to fire a gun," Michael argued defensively.

"Do you know how to run and fire asshole?" asked CJ, "I mean it's pretty fucking hard when you're out there and surrounded by them."

"I'll tell you what," Ken argued, "Why don't you do your thing, and you let us do our thing?"

"Fine," CJ replied aiming again, "Fuck you, then. Trying to be nice."

"Like your dick you probably don't even know how to handle that thing," Steve laughed.

"What'd you say, motherfucker?" CJ argued rushing to him as Ken held him back. Steve backed up with a smug smile as they tried calming down CJ.

"Let's just cool down a second," Michael announced trying to keep things calm as usual, "Try to keep things friendly here, Steve."

"You don't know shit about me," CJ declared.

"Well show us," Ken asked.

"What?"

"Show us," Ken replied handing him a clip.

"Oh," CJ nodded comprehending the challenge, "Okay. Fine." He stood back locked and loaded turned and aimed within seconds, and shot rapidly into the mannequins as Ken watched. CJ shot one, two, three, four heads off the mannequins quickly, stopped and lowered the gun as they all looked over at the now headless mannequins.

"Wow!" Nicole said walking over to them.

"Alright, there's your proof," CJ announced, "Here's your piece," he tossed the gun in to Ken's hand, "Now you all can fuck yourself," he announced waving his middle finger at them, "**_especially_** you, Steve." He stormed off as they all stood silently still in disbelief. There was a long sustained silence between them. No one could really say the words they were thinking or wanted to admit,

"He's good," Michael blurted finally admitting.

"Yeah," Ana replied with a loud scoff.

"He'll be good out there with us," Terry declared enthusiastically.

"It looks like we're set," Ken proclaimed. He walked over to the tool box where they stored their firearms and looked over to the four headless mannequins, and huffed to him self in surprise, "Damn."

Later that day as Ross and Ana walked through the halls of the base, kids ran by them playing, a sight unseen to Ana in months, and it was a sight she was rather ecstatic to witness. She turned watching them run off into the halls as Ross noticed her wide-eyed gaze and excited smile, "You alright?" he asked with a smirk.

"I haven't seen something like that in months, I never thought I'd ever see anything like that again," she replied, "It's..."

"...assuring?" he asked.

"Very assuring," she replied smiling, "I just can't help wondering if this will all come to an end."

"Neither can I, but it comes with the territory," replied Ross, "I get jumpy every time there's a loud noise, and I'm very edgy turning corners, but--I try to enjoy what we have here. This is like another chance to survive, you know?"

"I know," she replied with a satisfied smile, "I'm happy I survived. I just miss everyone, you know?"

"Me too," replied Ross.

"I lost good friends back there," Ana, "Michael included. He was such a sweet guy. I've never met anyone like him."

"Hey," Ross said with a sigh trying to break the mood, "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I could eat," she replied hugging herself.

"Are you cold?" he asked concerned.

"It's really cold in here," she replied with a sigh, "Is it just me or something?"

"You're probably coming down from your meds," Ross explained, taking off his jacket, "Put this on." He took off his green officer's jacket and draped it around her shoulder as she gave a slight shiver looking around as the silence became deafening. There was the hum of the central air within the halls as she drew a slight sigh.

"Why is it so quiet?" she asked.

"It gets like that," Ross explained, "The officers are probably at lunch. Nothing is wrong. I promise. Come on, let's go eat."

They sat down to lunch at the cafeteria where the soldiers and survivors sat among each other to eat; Ross and Ana were inseparable that day, forming an inadvertent bond with one another, and Ross intended to keep it in spite of the fact that he knew her clinging to him was for security. They sat across one another as Ana set aside her apple and played with her food.

"Are you and Casper friends?" she asked.

"Colleagues would be the appropriate term, but we have our occasional friendliness," he explained as he began eating, "He saved my ass back in L.A."

"How?"

"Took down a group of those freaks who were chasing after me," he explained, "I mean they were coming up fast, and he stood in front of me and took each of them down with one shot after the other. After that, I knew he was the best son-of-a-bitch in this place, so we just watched each other's back. Damn, I hate that guy."

"Why?" Ana asked, with a chuckle.

"He's fast," Ross replied with a sneer, "Too fast."

She poked and prodded the spaghetti for a while and went for the apple, "Is that all you're eating?" he asked concerned, as she took a small bite off an apple finally setting her fork down on to her food.

"Yeah," she replied, "I'm not really hungry."

"The food's good here," replied Ross, "Trust me."

"I trust you," she replied sarcastically, "I haven't eaten anything in weeks."

"Can I ask you something?" asked Ross as she nodded, "What was it like in that mall with all those things out there?"

"It was hell on Earth," she explained, "Working in the Emergency ward as a nurse, you think you've seen the worst, but then you look at them and you have second thoughts. There were many times where I just wanted to end it; if I had a dime for every time I put a gun to my mouth…"

"What stopped you?" he asked.

"I wanted to live; I wanted to hold on to the hope that maybe this was just a bad phase in civilization and that perhaps things would go back to normal," she replied, "I didn't want to go so easily. Once I looked out onto the survivors, the instincts I had as a nurse to take care of people kicked in, and I couldn't turn my back on them."

"I think it was the same for me," replied Ross, "I was there; right in the center of the carnage," he explained waving his hands, "People running back and forth. I just…stood there with my gun drawn—didn't know who to shoot." He gave a chuckle and a nod, "I was afraid to shoot. I was afraid I might shoot an innocent victim down."

"I keep thinking…what the hell happened?" Ana explained, "**_How_** did this happen and why now?"

"Why now?" he asked with a scoff, "It was bound to happen. Somewhere along the line with the guns going off, the soldiers entering the countries…someone somewhere decided to build the ultimate weapon. Might have been us, or it could have been them. But either way, somewhere down the line, it was let loose…and it worked. They destroyed the world…all for a little piece of land."

"All those people," she declared thinking in disbelief, "My family, and my friends. I just… can't help thinking who is dead. What did you see?"

"We were stationed outside east coast of New York, and…it started right off the back," he explained, "It was like someone shot a gun off and the race started, because before we knew it we were being ambushed by dozens of them. My training came in handy, because I managed to fight some of them off without being hurt. I wasn't certain, but something was wrong, because they just kept coming, non-stop. I took my machine gun and shot a man; wasted three rounds into him and he didn't go down. It was at that point where I knew this wasn't just any riot…it was something a lot more. Out of desperation, I drew my pistol and one shot to the head, he was down for the count."

"How did you get out of it?" she asked.

"I ran," he replied, "I just kept running until I lost the crowd. Call me a deserter, but I had to find my family, and we were losing rapidly. At one point I heard a woman scream, and I turned to see a man hunched over a woman who was on the floor. I assumed it was her husband or a loved one, and then I rushed over and there I saw it. I could barely mutter words… she was just…laid out on the ground…her insides outside…and he was…eating her. He looked up at me and just continued eating her. It was just some fucked up shit, y'know? At the beginning it was "All for one, and one for all". Thirty minutes in to the riot and it was basically "every man for himself". It was shocking."


	6. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Six

**NEW YORK…**

"Ah," he said with a wide smile walking into the room, "Perfect."

"You were gone long," Debbie said.

"I'm fifty-five, I'm an old man, have pity," he joked grasping his chest playfully.

"You think they'll ever find us here and save us?" asked Alex.

"Well, my dear, if they do, let's pray they're kind people," he replied with a smirk and a wink. Debbie and Alex enjoyed his jokes and high-spirited nature, and he took care of the two like a father would, but they couldn't ignore the elephant in the room; death was coming to them all, and they couldn't stand to think when it would happen. Most of all, they worried that death wouldn't come, only **_un-_**death. Clark prayed to god that his death would be quick and that he wouldn't turn into one of the corpses outside.

"So," he said, "Where were we?"

Later that evening, as the hours and minutes dragged on, they lay on the floor bunched together, Debbie lay beside Clark, Alex' head along Clark's lap as they prepared to sleep, the deafening silence filled the room,

"What was your favorite food?" asked Debbie.

"Cherries," replied Alex, "I'd eat anything with cherries in it. Ice cream, especially," she looked up to Debbie, "How about you?"

"I'd basically have to say… fried chicken," replied Debbie with a sigh, "I loved it. I'd eat them by the buckets."

"You ate buckets of chicken and never gained a pound?"

"I was blessed," joked Debbie.

"I hate you," Alex said with a smirk.

"Favorite band?" asked Debbie.

"U2," she replied, "My mom used to play it for me and my sisters."

"I loved Sheryl Crow!" Debbie boasted, "I saw her in concert in 2000; she was great." Their conversation was suddenly stopped as an eerie groaning emerged from outside the building; Alex and Debbie gasped in fright, their chests tightened from terror as they heard the dragging of feet along the ground. Usually, the sounds of the nights in New York, but at a close distance it was horrifying. Alex covered her ears and began whimpering softly. Debbie began patting her head softly listening to the lingering undead. "It's okay," Debbie assured her, "Its okay."

The night passed like a breeze surprisingly, and as usual, the three sat at the desk in the study room as Clark walked into the class with a tray of food.

"Lunch is served," he said with an arrogant swagger imitating a French waiter, "Today's menu: Weenies with a special ketchup glaze." Suddenly, like a cannon, a loud slam arose from the back door that instantly drew their attention. Alex and Debbie gasped and yelped aloud in fright and scurried from their seats as Clark rushed to the corner of the room pulling out a bat from behind the bookshelf.

"Clark!" Alex said in tears.

"Hide!" Clark ordered in a whisper, "Debbie, hide Alex!" The slamming along the door continued repeatedly as Debbie yanked Alex' hand and they raced across the halls into a small dark room. Clark raised his bat up and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Seven or seventy, he didn't care, he was going to go down protecting the girls.

**FLORIDA…**

"It's fucked up," an older man said softly. Ana and Ross looked over to an older man dressed like a trucker as he bit into his apple with his snaggly teeth, his small red hat atop his near balding head.

"Who are you?" asked Ana.

"Ana, this is one of the survivors we picked up," Ross replied, "This is Buzz, Buzz, this is Ana." Buzz tipped his head as Ana smiled and he continued eating his apple.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

"Nowhere, really," he replied, "They plucked me off a field somewhere in Michigan. I was—hiding in a barn when they spotted me."

"I'm sorry, **_what's_** fucked up?" asked Ross.

"Our situation we're currently living in," replied Buzz, "If you really want to humor yourself and call it living."

"What's wrong with it?" asked Ana.

"What do you mean, what's wrong with it?" he asked with a scoff, "We're trapped in this huge military base, we know no one, these rooms are for shit and we got thousands of those shit heads outside just waiting for a weak spot to enter."

"We're protected, sir," Ross assured him in a very militant tone, "This place is barricaded with dozens of armed guards, and even if we did somehow become penetrated, we got tanks and guns enough to take them all down."

"Then when the ammunitions gives out, then what?" he asked, "We can't be here forever. The food will run out, the ammo—"

"--That won't happen," replied Ross.

"How the fuck do you know army boy?" asked Buzz, "You check the shipping charts, lately?"

"I'm informed," argued Ross turning his back as he rolled his eyes to Ana.

"You think this government gives a shit about us?" asked Buzz, "You think they're up in their offices thinking about ways to keep us alive?"

"Will you guys please shut up?" a woman asked as she fed her child, "You're scaring my son."

"Hey, keep it down a bit would you?" Ross replied sternly.

"Funny," Buzz declared, "Even after the end of the world, we still gotta listen to these muscle bound military shit heads. Bunch of tools, and "yes" men. What are you going to do if I don't shut up, put me back out there? You know, you mother fuckers got some nerve making us work around here."

"Work?" asked Ana.

"This is a community, Ana," Ross replied, "We have to do our share if we want to keep this together."

"Maybe you **_would_** be happier if you were back out there," Ana replied, "Fighting for your life every waking moment of your life, struggling to find five minutes to piss."

"Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven," he replied.

"What is your problem?" asked Ana.

"Have you looked around?" asked Buzz, "No one wants to realize this is not permanent."

"What makes you think it isn't?" asked a young blonde girl in the corner of the cafeteria as she took a drag from a cigarette.

"My daddy used to tell me, if it look like gold, feel like gold, and shine like gold, it probably ain't," explained Buzz, "Things here are too comfortable."

"Enough," Ana replied angrily, "Is this how you're going to spend the rest of your waking life? Talking and complaining about how good you have it?"

"We don't have it good, girl," Buzz explained, "The world is over and we still have to work to survive. We're still at war, and they're the new civilization. See?" He chuckled, "**_We're_** the walking dead!" He gave a loud shrill cackle, "Ain't that the most fucked up shit you ever heard?"

"You didn't answer my question," Ana replied.

"Depends on how much of it I got left," replied Buzz.

"You must have been a real hoot around your kids," replied the blonde girl.

"I know you!" the older woman asked as she fed her son, "Aren't you Becky Stone--?"

"--I **_used_** to be," replied the girl with furrowed brows, "Now, I'm just… me."

"I had some of your music," replied Ana.

"Thanks," replied Becky, "It's not like any of that matters much anymore, but thanks all the same for what it's worth."

"For what it's worth don't mean shit right now, darlin'," Buzz replied taking a drag from a cigarette he nestled between his fingers.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Becky replied, "You're really ruining my good mood, you know that?"

"What happened to you?" asked Ana.

"I was flying to Las Vegas for my tour, and we stopped over at an airport to re-fuel… by the time we got there, everything was gone, and we were rushed. I thought they were fans, but once they started tearing my entourage apart, I realized it wasn't autographs they wanted."

"This isn't funny," the woman replied sternly, "None of it is."

"Well, I'm not joking, sweetheart," replied Becky, "They were really tearing them apart. I hid in the plane. We tried to take off, but… there were too many. It's odd; we were on the plane for two days, and the televisions were out, I just figured there was an equipment malfunction or something."

"I tell you, we should just get into one of those tanks, and steamroll our way outta here, right now," replied Buzz.

"Been there," replied Ana, "I don't want to do it again."

"You remind me of someone. Back in my hometown, we had guys like you," explained the woman, "A group of gear heads from the town got together in one of those trucks and began shooting anything they came in contact with; they had their very own lynch mob. Within twenty minutes, the drunk driver of the truck swerved off the road and crashed into the field. I tell you, it was like feeding time at the zoo. Those things were picking those guys from the trucks and—eating them alive. God, screams like that are hard to forget. The guys who were pinned under the truck were literally torn from under and had their legs chewed off."

"Well, I lost my appetite," replied Becky as she dropped her sandwich onto her tray in disgust.

There arose a harsh silence as the images of the carnage described by her, and the carnage they'd witnessed suddenly flooded into their minds, and they couldn't bear to look at one another. They didn't like each other, but whether they liked it or not, they were connected in that base.

"Shit," Casper said entering the lunch room, looking over the group, as he walked along the tables with a tray of food, "You guys look like somebody died…and got back up again." They lightly chuckled.

"Fancy seeing you here," replied Ross.

"I'm not exactly surprised to see you here," Casper replied looking suggestively over to Ana with a half smirk, "I got hungry and the officer's café is all crowded," explained Casper as he sat beside Ana, "You can only eat at the military mess hall for so long before you get tired of military idioms being referred to as casual conversation."

**NEW YORK…**

Clark grasped his bat and hid around the corner with his bat in tow as the slamming along the metal door continued repeatedly. Debbie and Alex crouched into the corner of the Xerox room. Alex whimpered silently as Debbie covered her mouth muffling her cries. Clark panted in fright and signaled the cross sign in the air as the slamming on the metal back door continued. Suddenly, it swung open with a crash and the air brushed into the small library. A long gun barrel peeked out from the doorway and slowly lengthened as two figures entered the building. Thankfully, they were alive; two young men, one a large brown haired man dressed in a firefighter's uniform, wielding a large red axe, the other was a young officer dressed in a torn uniform wielding a shotgun in front of him as they slowly walked into the library.

The officer and the firefighter didn't speak but slowly walked through the library, papers and desks strewn about. The firefighter quickly closed the door behind him and locked it and they continued sneaking through the building, "This was a bad idea," the officer whispered.

"This was empty," the firefighter insisted.

"What if there's a crowd of them?" asked the officer.

"Then the day wasn't a complete waste," replied the firefighter. The officer sighed and wiped his forehead sticking his shotgun out.

"Go up ahead," the officer said.

"You have the shotgun," argued the firefighter.

"H-Hello?" the officer called as the firefighter scoffed.

"What do you expect them to say, "Ain't nobody here but us dead folks, but we'll kill you anyway!"!" he argued.

"Who are you?" Clark muttered aloud. The firefighter lurched forward as the cop cocked his gun, "Are there any survivors?" he asked.

"Just me," Clark explained, "Go away."

"We've been running and hiding for hours," he pleaded, "We need a safe haven, can you let us stay?"

"Names!" Clark insisted.

"My name is Peter Wilcox," he began, "I am—**_was _**a firefighter, I have a police officer with me, Richard Brenner."

"NYPD, sir," Richard replied, "We're not here for trouble, we mean you no harm, whatsoever, we just need help. We've been dodging and running from those shit heads outside all morning, we're tired, let us stay here, please." Clark jumped from out of the corner with his bat raised high as Richard stepped forward cocking his gun, "Don't move," Richard ordered.

"Wait, wait!" Peter said standing between them, "Ricky put the gun down, sir we don't want trouble, we just need safety… please."

"You're not welcome here," Clark insisted.

"Sir, if we go out there we'll die," Peter insisted, "Please. We have-we have food." He lifted a blue duffle bag and rattled it as a peace offering of a sorts, as Clark gazed at the large bag, "A week's supply. Let us stay here and we'll share it."

"Tell him to lower the gun," Clark replied.

"Fuck, no," replied Richard, "Put the bat down, first."

"I have two others with me hiding," replied Clark, "If you don't hurt them, then you can stay."

"We have no intention of it," Peter assured him.

"Are they hurt or bitten?" asked Richard.

"What the hell does that matter?" asked Clark.

"If one of them are bitten, it means they're turning, and in a little while, they'll turn on you, get it?" explained Richard cocking his gun.

"They're just fine," replied Clark, "You just stay away from them…do you understand me?"

"Fine, fine," Peter replied as he slowly lowered his axe on the table. Richard cocked his gun once again, raised it and placed it on the table raising his hands up.

"Now you," replied Peter. Clark dropped his bat and sighed in relief and turned walking away towards the Xerox room.

Richard and Peter looked towards each other in curiosity and slowly followed as Clark tapped the glass frightening the girls. Debbie and Alex squealed in horror and crawled back as Clark waved and signaled to them that it was safe. Debbie rushed to the door and unlocked it as Clark wiped the sweat from his forehead,

"It's okay," replied Clark.

"What happened?" asked Debbie in tears, "Were they outside, did--did they break in!"

"No, no," Clark said hugging and comforting her, "It's just two survivors trying to get in. Come on out." Debbie and Alex slowly emerged from the Xerox room and looked out at Peter and Richard who stood across the room gazing at them curiously.

"This is—Peter and…Richard," Clark introduced them, "They're okay. They won't hurt us." Richard and Peter were speechless, and simply waved, "Hi," Richard muttered, "how are you?"

"How do you think?" asked Peter. Alex emerged from the room in tears, mumbling incoherently and ran to Clark hugging him, "It's okay," Clark whispered, "It's okay."

"It's just been you three?" asked Peter.

"Yes," replied Clark.

"How long have you been here?" asked Richard.

"Three—four weeks," Clark explained, "We've been living on the cafeteria food."

"She okay?" asked Peter looking over at Alex.

"She's had it the hardest," explained Clark, "She's fourteen… and I think probably developed a severe nervous condition."

"Looks like shock to me," explained Peter in concern.

"Big surprise," replied Richard.

"We don't want any trouble," Debbie warned them, "We're just trying to survive just like you."

"We're not here to cause trouble, girl," Richard assured her, "We been playing hide and seek with those walking rigomortis cases all morning. We managed to escape the police station…my entire squad was taken down."

"We met up halfway through Brooklyn and snuck through the streets," explained Peter as he dropped onto a chair, "We've been hiding in fire escapes and running like hell all morning. We almost got caught by one, but we snuck around it."

"When the power went out, that was worse," replied Richard with a sigh, "Couldn't see a damn thing…only heard screams."

"What's her name?" asked Peter as he observed Alex from afar.

"Alex," explained Debbie, "I'm Debra." Peter gazed over at her noticing her far-away expression and beady eyes that glistened with fright.

"Is she going to be okay?" asked Debra.

"My theory: she saw something more frightening than any child could fathom and just went into shock," explained Peter, "She'll be fine, but there's going to be long term psychological effects."


	7. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Seven

"Are you a paramedic or something?" asked Clark.

"I used to be," replied Peter, "Then I became a firefighter."

"Thank god," replied Clark, with a very heavy sigh of relief, slumping his shoulders and walking to him, "We needed someone like you here."

"Well, thanks," Peter replied awkwardly, "I'm not sure how much use I'll be to you here, but thanks all the same."

"How have you been keeping alive?" asked Richard.

"When everything happened I hid in here, and I helped Debra in, and we found Alex as well, and we just—held up here, hid in the dark and kept quiet," explained Clark, "I've been taking care of the girls."

"So, what now—do we escape or something?" asked Debra.

"Nope," replied Richard, setting his rifle on his lap still softly panting and winded, "There's no way out, just like there's no way in. No ambulance, trucks, trolleys, motorcycles, or shopping carts. It's just us…sorry."

"Don't you have a radio or something to contact the military?" she asked disappointed.

"Girl, **_the military_** can't contact the military," Richard joked, "We wish, but all I got is this shotgun here, this suit, and a pair of handcuffs."

She sighed angrily grasping her head and banged the counter as Peter and Richard looked on disappointed. "We're just as pissed off as you are," explained Peter, "But right now there are only five of us, and they outnumber us twenty-five to one. So, I figure the best thing to do right now is set up camp here with you and hope for the best."

"Well, you're more than welcome," explained Clark with an enthusiastic smile, "We have food, and shelter for you gentlemen, so make yourself at home." Peter grabbed his tote bag and axe and they followed Clark through the library hallway.

"Wait," Richard said, "We gotta patch up the back door. I mean, if it was easy for us to break in, imagine what seven of those things will do."

"How the **_hell_** did you survive so long with all these open areas?" asked Peter in surprise.

"We kept as quiet as humanly possible," replied Alex.

"Is there a basement or something we can hide out in?" asked Peter.

"Sure," replied Clark, "Would you happen to have the key for it?" They stood in front of the red steel door. A large silver lock bolted the handle shut.

"Why didn't you break it?" asked Richard.

"I could have," replied Clark, "But then those things would have been in here faster than I could move."

"What's **_their_** story?" asked Peter lowering his voice, "How did they make it here?"

"Well, Debra went to college here," Clark said as they hunched close to one another, "From what she's told me, those things raided her dorm… and barely made it out alive…when I locked myself inside, she was banging and screaming frantically. I took a chance and let her in."

"What about this library?" asked Richard.

"It was empty when I locked myself in," he explained, "Looks as if the people that worked here abandoned it amidst the carnage. The secretary however is in the office, her brains all over the walls."

"Did you ever find out what happened to the little one?" asked Peter.

"She's never really been able to explain it to me in detail, but from what I've gathered, she woke up one morning and saw something horrifying that put her in that condition and she just mumbles to herself on occasion."

"She really only talks to me," Debra explained, "And sometimes Clark."

"Filling in for her parents," Richard deduced.

"It would be my guess," replied Clark. Peter stepped forward attempting to pat her head and she flinched in fright hiding behind Clark for safety.

"It's okay," Debra assured her, "They're not the monsters."

"How she made it to this place unharmed and in one piece," Clark expressed, "I will never know…but we've been thankful to what we've done here together."

"You've been taking care of them," Peter deduced rather impressed, "You must be a good man."

"I just did what I thought I should," explained Clark, "Four weeks locked in this building while we heard the attacks, the carnage, the explosions…the others screaming to break in to survive as well…it's more than one man can bear."

"You did what you had to," replied Richard, "You did well, sir."

"Where'd you get the food?" asked Clark.

"When everything went down we found a convenience store and took what we could; we were only there for ten minutes, but we took a lot," replied Peter.

"Is there a door that leads to the roof?" asked Peter, still assessing the situation.

"Up here," Clark said leading them to a red door. Locked. Just as all the other emergency doors in the place were. Peter yanked at the lock annoyed and sighed angrily as Richard began sizing the situation.

"Who the **_fuck_** locks all the emergency exits?" asked Richard angrily.

"The janitor must be the only one with the keys," explained Clark.

"We--we should get them," replied Debbie. Peter raised a brow in disbelief and scoffed, "Sure," Peter replied with a nod, "Go outside and see which one of those things are the janitor and bring up the keys."

"Sorry," Debbie replied realizing the absurdity of her comment. Peter scoffed playfully, "Maybe there's an extra set of keys in the secretary's office," she suggested. Richard opened the door to the secretary's office and saw her body laid out along her desk, her head to the side as rotted brain fragments plastered the walls behind her, and the dark large pool of blood painted her folders and notebooks as the clock in front of her was blank. Richard observed her noticing the gun in her hand, and looked over to the bulletin board where pictures of her and her husband hung; on the sides there hung pictures of her and her three children; one a girl near the age of five. She had a family; but in the midst of the carnage, she committed suicide. "Is everything okay?" Debbie said as Richard gasped in fright. "Shit," Richard said turning to her, "Don't do that."

Debbie looked at the corpse and flinched back in fright, "Is she—is she--?"

"No," Richard assured her, "She's dead, alright. And she ain't gettin' back up."

"How do you know?" she asked.

He leaned down tilting his head and drew eye contact with her. The shot was so immense her eyes never closed, her mouth was still gaping and he drew and uneasy smile waving his hand in front of her face, "It looks like in the middle of everything, she panicked and blew her brains out," he explained, "She's dead. She's probably been dead for a month. Didn't you smell her?"

"Two million dead bodies are walking the streets," She declared, "It's pretty hard to single out one rotting smell from the other."

"That's true," Richard scoffed. He rushed into the secretary's office and kicked her body off the chair knocking her on the floor. He caused Debra to stir, and he began looking through her drawers quickly. One after the other, and after the sixth drawer he yanked it noticing it was locked and groaned in anger, "Shit, is everything locked in this fucking place?" he complained. "I could pick it," replied Debbie. She rushed to the drawer and twisted a paper clip instantly going to work as Richard looked on standing back. "When the midterms came around I used to steal the answers from the teacher's desks and sell them."

"That's illegal," Richard joked.

"Arrest me then, officer," Debbie declared, "Put me in a nice, warm, safe holding cell." Richard chuckled, "How in god's name could you have held up here for all this time?" he asked, "It just boggles the mind."

"It wasn't easy," she replied, "I had to keep calm though, to keep Alex from going insane…which doesn't seem far off by the way. It's been hell here," she said with a sigh of relief, "The silence, the tension, the loneliness…the humidity… the only thing that kept me sane was trying to keep Alex sane." She chuckled.

"She's gone," explained Richard, "the look in her eyes; she's far gone."

"I know," replied Debbie sadly, her hands shaking as she picked the lock, "But—I mean, things are different now that you two are here with us."

"No, they're not," Richard argued, "You're still in the same situation, only there's two more people in it with you."

"How long were you out there?" she asked.

"Seemed like months," he replied, "But it was probably six hours."

"Six hours!" she said surprised, "How did you make your way around them?"

"We ran like hell, kept as quiet as possible, walked through alleys, and hid in fire escapes," explained Richard, "We kept our heads low. About as low as possible…it looked as if we'd never find safety."

"Did you—see any survivors?" she asked.

"Not many," he replied, "We saw other survivors perched on roofs, but there was no way of getting to them. We **_did_** see **_plenty_** of those things though. They're fast, very fast, but…once they start rotting and decaying…they slow down. But still, I wouldn't walk out there and try to out-maneuver them."

"When everything started, I didn't know what to do," Debbie explained as she knelt in the dry pool of blood. "What happened when it came here?" asked Richard.

"It wasn't slow," she explained, "I'd heard about people going into the hospital after being attacked, but within hours, they'd already blocked the streets and cops were beginning to evacuate all the classes and buildings. By the time we were being evacuated…it was too late." She wiped tears from her eyes and sniffed aloud as she continued picking the lock on the drawer, "By the time we started packing our things, I'd heard screaming down the hall…they were…rushing the dorms. One by one they were smashing through the doors and attacking people."

"What did you do?" asked Richard as he leaned against the wall.

"Within minutes, they were at my front door," she explained, "I didn't know what to do. I was…being pulled in all directions. I wanted to run for my life, I wanted to save my friends and bring them with me, I wanted—to call my dad and tell him I loved him…but I just ran. When I ran, my roommate was already being attacked…" She began whimpering aloud and wiped her tears, "I could…hear them ripping her apart in the background…she was calling out to me…" her whimpers became louder as she turned sitting down against the drawer and grasping her head as she cried, "I couldn't do anything but run…by the time I made it out of the dorms… people were running back and forth in a panic. People were attacking people, people were running…I didn't know whether to rush to safety or run back into the dorm. I ran to someone and asked for their help…but it was too late. Next thing I knew I was running for my life, too."

Richard couldn't shed a tear for her, all he could do was watch, because regardless they were all in the same situation, "I ran and ran and ran, and I looked back and there were four or five of them chasing me, their eyes… I'll never forget their eyes. White as anything I've ever seen and they were growling." She scoffed and turned to the drawer again proceeding to pick the lock, "I just ran and ran," she explained nervously, "It felt like hours…when I finally stopped from exhaustion. My fucking lungs were just stinging from me trying to breath. I nearly collapsed. I found an empty area in the campus, I could hear the screams and the police cars, and the growling, I saw someone knocked down by one of them…they bashed her head in with a brick, and just…ate at her…within seconds, a group of them were on top of her and just… ate her alive. I watched this happen. It's an image I'll never forget. I began trying to find a place to hide and by god's grace, I found Professor Murdock, and we just—hid here."

Finally, a small click arose from the drawer as she sighed and stood up, "Success," she declared as Richard rushed to the drawer. "I'm going to go check on Alex," she said walking off. He began rummaging through the drawers and finally found a large set of keys. "Thank god," He whispered twirling the keys. He looked over to the dead body, "Night sweety," he joked as he turned off the light and closed the door. Peter stood in the rest room in front of Alex who sat along the sink as he poured water onto a rag and began cleaning her face. He could see her dilated eyes gazing off into space as he sighed in sadness. "How is she?" asked Debbie.

"Basically the same," replied Peter, "but at least she's clean."

"Maybe now she might get better," Debbie hoped.

"Nope," Peter admitted, "She won't. We're pretty much screwed, girl." Debbie sighed glassy eyed, "I'm not going to lie to you," Peter confessed, "I'm just as baffled as you are what to do next." He turned and walked over to her holding the rag in his hand and grasped her chin facing her to him and began cleaning her face as she sighed drifting her eyes away awkwardly. She was burdened with so many thoughts; exhaustion, tension, fear, sadness, stress, and somehow she felt connected to their new allies.

"You okay?" asked Peter.

"We're not going to make it out of here alive…are we?" she asked gazing at him hopelessly in the eyes. He hesitated for a moment and didn't answer, only wiping her face with the rag, "In the end," she continued, "It's either going to be a choice of starving to death or suicide. Right?"

"I'm not going to lie to you," replied Peter, "In the department we were taught to keep a positive spin on things, always instill optimism in the victims…but in our present situation…it doesn't seem like we're going to make it out here alive." Tears ran down her eyes as he continued wiping her face and chuckled, "Funny," she said, "I was expecting the positive speech."

"So was I," he replied with a smile.

"Pete," Richard said rushing into the bathroom, "I got the keys." They all turned and rushed to the roof door as Alex hopped off the counter and grabbed Debbie's hand as she led her to the group. Richard unlocked it and slowly opened up the blue door that led up a flight of steps to a doorway the opened out onto the roof. Peter and Richard rattled the door knob and pushed it open. The door squeaked opening out onto an open roof, gravel cascaded along the floor of the roof.

"We'll be here now," declared Richard, "It's safer, and we need a place to re-group if anything happens."

"Our food was running low," replied Clark, "And we don't have anymore heat—"

"--Yeah, when a state of emergency was declared, they shut the power plants down," explained Richard, "I don't know why; I would have rather been blown to shit than fighting for my life every goddamned day."

They looked out onto the wide red sky, appropriate for the current state of the world. The sky scrapers peaked among one another; no flickering lights, no life, only smashed windows, billowing black smoke, distant thumping that scattered along the city, and papers strewn about within dark buildings that now looked like deserted canyons peaks. The lights at Time Square no longer shown either; only the ghost of what used to be and the image of what remained. Peter stepped forward and peeked down to the ground watching the dead walk the streets and bumping into one another with blank expressions. Many echoed the carnage that had been inflicted upon them; many faces torn from their bones; others walked around with their faces half-eaten, some bore no visible bites to the face, only dry wounds along their bodies. They were so blank and mindless as they stumbled along one another.

Clark took a deep breath of relief at the fresh air and wind that brushed along their bodies, "That feels wonderful," Clark muttered. Peter rubbed his eyes with a groan of exhaustion and gave a loud heavy yawn, "Damn I am tired. Have you seen any survivors?"

"None yet," replied Clark, "But we've been locked down there so long… besides, even if we did see survivors, we wouldn't have any way of getting to them."

"What the fuck happened?" Richard asked angrily as he took off his hat wiping his forehead of sweat, "Four months ago I worrying about paying the rent, and now I'm fighting for my life? How do you make that sort of transition?"

"I've asked myself that every day since I locked myself in here," explained Clark, "But its hopeless lingering on the past. Instead of trying to make sense of what was, I've been desperately trying to make sense of what is."

"You were a professor once," said Richard, "Do you have any theories or something about what caused this?"

"I was an **_English_** professor," Clark corrected him sternly, "I wouldn't know—I—I used to go to class, teach all day, go home to grade papers, have some tea and go to sleep. My life consisted of routine. I never read the paper, never watched television… my hands were over my eyes and were going to be until I died of old age… but I'm not sure. Maybe it's a disease created in some secret government base, maybe it's a terrorist plan gone out of control, maybe…voodoo, a curse, or maybe—maybe, man has reached it's end. Perhaps we've sinned so much and inflicted so much carnage that we're basically cursed."

"Cursed?" asked Peter.

"Sure," replied Clark, "Imagine an internal mechanism in our bodies built-in to go off at the precise time, and imagine now was the time. Some one somewhere passed away, the mechanism went off, and they turned in to one of them and spread the disease setting off all of the other mechanisms. Think about it, wouldn't you hate to turn into one of those things?" He groaned, "I know I would."

None of them answered or spoke, because they knew what the answer was; perhaps it was a curse upon humanity, perhaps they were damned to spend the rest of their living days in that building, but either way, there was no getting out, and no escape.


	8. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Eight

Peter and Richard picked up a large table and slowly placed it against the back door using it to block the back entrance. They began taking chairs and books, and toppled the bookshelves slowly barricading the doors. This gave Alex a small sense of security having the two men there to help them; as much confidence as she placed in Clark, he was still just an old man with limited capabilities.

"What's the situation like out there?" asked Clark.

"Hell on Earth," explained Peter.

"Is there any mode of escape for us, any way we can leave here?" he asked.

"Nothing," replied Peter, "There are groups and groups of those things lingering in basically all corners, they never sleep, never rest, and even if there was a slight chance that we could escape we wouldn't make it very far."

"So, what now?" asked Debbie.

"Sleep," replied Richard.

"Sleep?" asked Debbie.

"I'm tired as hell, we both are," he explained, "A good night's sleep will do us a lot of good and maybe we'll be able to think more clearly in the morning."

"We patched up the back door, the front door is already boarded up," explained Peter, "If we just keep quiet and out of sight we'll be fine."

That night as the girls slept in the classroom bundled beside one another, Peter and Richard stood atop the roof looking out onto the skyscrapers with sadness. After only a few hours of sleep, they found is impossible to go back,

"What time is it?" asked Richard.

"Who knows?" asked Peter, "Doesn't seem to matter anymore. I can hear them…groaning…scratching at the walls."

"For some reason they're not attacking the animals," explained Richard.

"How do you know?"

"I saw a dog walk through a group of them yesterday," he replied, "It's just the strangest thing. And the dogs are starting to attack **_them_**."

"I used to come here all the time," Clark said as he emerged from the steps, "Now I've never been so desperate to leave."

"Did you have anybody back there?" asked Richard.

"No," replied Clark, "My wife, god bless her, passed on three years ago…we never had any children. I guess we were more fortunate come to think of it."

"What about our silent leader?" asked Clark with a half smirk. Peter looked back with a grimace and gazed out onto the silent desolate streets.

"What did you see when it all started?" asked Clark.

"We were…called on the first day, when everything began," he explained, "It seemed there were a few fires ranging from the increasing number of fires and attacks happening in the Bronx. When we arrived, the carnage had already began, but I just assumed there was a riot or something… I was wrong."

**FLORIDA…**

"When there's no more room in hell—the dead will walk the Earth," Ana declared softly as she gazed blankly. Ana and Ross sat in a small room near the dormitories where the survivors commuted and lived. Ana's room was rather small, with pinkish walls obviously painted in a rush and to lighten the atmosphere, like pink walls would cheer people up, there was a hotplate, with a single bed and a table; it wasn't much, but it was a room, and she was glad to be alive.

"Wha-what's that, a bible quote?" asked Ross. She sat down on her soft bed with a sigh and patted her stomach. "Oh, nothing," she said breaking from her daze, "It's something I heard on the television when I was in the mall…some priest said it on television."

"What was that like?" Ross said as he poured her coffee from a pot. He handed her a cup and sat down beside her, "Being stuck in a mall for so long?"

"I don't know, not bad," she explained with a heavy sigh, "It could have been worse. Much worse, I guess. We were held up there for months, we had a lot of food, and a lot of water. At night…we'd sleep in the stores, and… it didn't matter how hard we covered our ears, we'd hear them in the lobby. They'd be banging the doors, moving around outside, and groaning… the sounds that came from them…my god."

"Why did you leave?" asked Ross.

"Escape would be more like it. We realized that we weren't there to live," she replied, "We realized we were just waiting to die."

"The war is still on," Ross declared with dread.

"War?" Ana said shrugging in disbelief, "What war?"

"The war between the countries, the war before everything happened," he explained annoyed, "It's still going."

"What!" Ana huffed and sipped her coffee as she leaned back, "You figure they'd stopped by now," she said.

"There are no boundaries in politics," he replied.

"What about here? What about now?" asked Ana, "What are they doing about the situation we're in?"

"Damage control," he replied, "But the infection has spread so rapidly they don't know who's infected and who's alive anymore."

"Infection," Ana said disgusted, "I hate that word. They still talk about it like it's a cold or something."

"Yeah," Ross scoffed, "Take some Benadryl and make it all go away. I guess they figure it's better to fix what was damaged and take what's left than try to find a cure. There was some talk that across the ocean the infection has stopped. I mean—it'd be impossible for the infection to spread there--"

"--What makes you think that?" asked Ana, "A tourist gets bitten, sets foot on a plane of perfectly healthy individuals. Maybe it's a man with a family, or a woman, they go to Britain, get sick, die, come to life, bite their loved one, or a neighbor. Most ironically, a stranger on the street, the cycle continues, and it spreads. It's the same business over there as here."

"But what if there's a chance?" Ross asked, "What if we could go to Britain and somehow close off the US?"

"It's a chance," explained Ana, "But what if they're in the same situation?"

"It's possible," replied Ross, "I'll tell you, to me, the world is over, I bet by now there's not one country that hasn't been affected by this."

"And what makes you think Britain hasn't been affected?" asked Steve, "It's possible they quarantined America once the infection broke out."

"This was fast, okay?" Michael insisted, "This was too fast. What makes you think this hasn't happened already over there? The UK is just as big as America, I mean the infection could have spread through some homeless person."

"Jesus," Steve chuckled, "Was CNN one of the places you got fired from?" No one basically drew a chuckle at Steve's belittling of Michael because basically Steve was a dick which had been established among them all, and Michael was just trying to keep the peace, so the insults Steve threw at him didn't really penetrate the soul he'd lost during the chaos inflicted. After they'd discussed going on Steve's yacht which he strongly was against, Steve being Steve had already begun trying to order people around, and had made a strong dictation that they were going to go where he announced they would because he was putting his ass on the line.

Surprisingly, the constant rapid fire insults thrown to Michael were also getting on CJ's nerves, and every time Steve gave an opinion, CJ couldn't help but give a heavy sigh while he brushed his hair under his cap.

"So, where are we going to go?" asked Ana.

"Anywhere but a fucking island," Steve argued, "Somewhere where there are people that don't want to eat us."

"That's going to be tough, don't you think?" CJ declared.

"Yeah, well how do you know?" Steve asked, "I been everywhere on my shit, and you haven't even left the outside of this fucking mall." Steve chuckled as Monica gave a scoff.

"Alright, let's take a vote, then," Michael proclaimed, "Majority rules. Who says we go to the island? Show of hands?" They all slowly, one by one put up their hands as Steve groaned slamming his keys on the counter angrily.

"Looks like you're outvoted," replied Michael still holding up his hand.

"Fine, you all can go fuck yourself," Steve declared, "You'll have to kill me before you take these keys," he held them up jingling them, "from my hands, got it?" He took a sip of coffee and walked off as the group groaned.

"Fucking asshole!" Ana groaned enraged.

"We'll convince that motherfucker," Ken replied, "If it's the last thing I do."

The group continued their arguing as CJ slipped his hat back on. He was so anxious to leave that fucking place he could practically taste it, and Steve's boat was the quickest way out of land and on to open sea where those monsters couldn't grab them. He knew driving those parking shuttles would inevitably mean having to stop once gas ran out, and those monsters out side the door were persistent in their pursuit and they'd have no time to stop and look for a gas station. As they talked among one another, the conversation heating, CJ slipped his hat back on and walked off with a sigh as they continued unnoticed.

CJ walked over to the sports store where Steve stood behind the draped curtain covering his sleeping spot and stood by the doorway. Steve sighed turning to CJ, "What's up?" he asked with his usual grin.

"Nothing much," CJ replied crossing his arms, "I wanted to talk with you."

"Those assholes out there still talking?" he asked.

"Yeah," CJ replied, "And I wanted to discuss it with you."

"There's nothing to discuss," Steve replied, "My yacht, I decide where our destination lands… or you can hoof it all the way to that island," he chuckled, "Up to you." CJ gave a scoff and smile, "Come here a minute," he whispered. Steve furrowed his brow and walked over as CJ patted him on the back leading him to the lobby.

"What?" he asked annoyed.

"I know I'm not the most likable guy here," CJ explained with a smile, "But right now, compared to you, I'm starting to look like a saint, you know?" They laughed, "And, uh," CJ continued, "After losing Bart, I was thinking about my priorities."

"Like, what, covering his ass more?" Steve joked. CJ chuckled, "Right, that was my fault," CJ replied shaking off his low insult, "But right now, the constant insults at Michael and making things difficult aren't helping our plans any more, you see?"

"What now, you and Michael blowing each other or something?" Steve asked.

"No," CJ replied, "Surprisingly, he's not that bad a guy, but I'm just sitting there, I'm watching him taking your insults without an inch of emotion and it's—well annoying the fuck out of me."

"What are you getting at?" asked Steve.

"I know it's your yacht," CJ explained, "But I don't want to die, and the only way we can escape is by your boat which you're making very difficult by rubbing it in our faces, right about now--"

"—this is already boring the shit out of me," Steve declared.

"Listen," CJ replied softly pushing him against the wall, which basically put Steve in a state of surprise, "You're not the leader here, no one is, but we have a bunch of people who want to live, and you're making it very hard on yourself." He leaned in close, "We're going to that island with your boat."

"Oh really?" asked Steve.

"Sure," CJ replied, "But if you want to keep arguing, I don't see any reason why I don't have to lay you out right here in front of everyone." Steve suddenly drew a grimace as CJ gave a faint calm smile, "You understand?" Steve nodded, "Because I will. I'd be more than happy to lay you out in front of everyone. And by now, I doubt anyone will come to stop me from doing it. Got me?" Steve nodded silently, "Okay man," Steve replied. "And, for the record," CJ whispered leaning in further, "Stop with shots at Michael, okay?"

"Okay, man," Steve replied, "I was—just kidding."

"Good man," CJ said tapping his face. It was obvious the message came through loud and clear for Steve who was no longer laughing. He grabbed him by the shoulder playfully, "Hey guys," Steve proclaimed obviously rattled by CJ, "We'll go to the island."

"What changed your mind?" asked Ken, as everyone looked on stunned by his very sudden declaration.

"It's my fucking boat," Steve replied, "Okay?"

"Fine," Michael replied. Steve attempted to walk off and stopped looking over to CJ who had his arms crossed, "And Mike?"

"Yeah?" Michael replied.

"Sorry for the shots," He said meekly as he rushed off to his room. Michael furrowed and looked over to CJ who shrugged. There was a long silence.

"Can someone explain to me what just happened here?" asked Ken.

"I'm wondering myself, actually," replied Terry.

"Wait a minute--" Ana replied noticing the immense change of mind, "What did you do, CJ?"

"What do you think?" CJ replied walking off, "Fucking nursery school." No one spoke of that event after that. Neither did Steve. CJ cut off his balls, and he never bothered testing the waters with him again.

"What's there to do for fun here?" asked Ana looking over to Ross who was finishing off his coffee.

"Lots of things," Ross replied.

"Can you show me?" she asked with a smirk.

"Then it's a date," he replied. He grabbed her by the hand and yanked her from her seat as she drew a chuckle.


	9. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Nine

A tall thin bald man dressed in a long white medical robe and blue suit stood in the middle of the white dark corridor writing in his clipboard as he stood in front of two windows which covered from the inside with a white shade. The lock to the door clicked as a group of men entered the room; some were dressed in medical suits carrying clipboards and conversing with one another as they adjusted their thin wire framed glasses, others were military superiors; dressed in their decorated army uniforms holding their caps beneath their arms as they talked and laughed, entered the dark facility where the scientist began shaking their hands making small talk. Some began to sit in the room on the chairs as he stood in front of them in front of the windows.

"Dr. Watson," a scientist said, "This is General Aldo." There stood a large uniformed officer; the exact superior expected in such a base; bushy gray hair, a grizzled pale exterior, dressed in a decorated green military jacket wielding his large cap as he shook Watson's hand leading the pack of scientists and officers behind him.

"What's the business of today's meeting?" asked an officer.

"We've come across some startling developments," explained the scientist with a scoff as he fixed his glasses, "Some which many of you will find quite intriguing especially towards the extermination of these creatures."

"They're people, doctor," argued an officer.

"No," he said, "They're in fact, creatures. They're the walking dead. They're nothing but mindless eating machines. They follow their base instinct to devour and they're devouring **_ each other_**. They walk until they're able to find food. It's an--unquenchable hunger."

"We know this already, doctor," a white haired superior said, "We've all experienced it, what we want to know is how to cure this."

"That's what this meeting is for," he said sternly, "There**_ is_** no cure." There was a sigh of disappointment among the officers and doctors.

"Say that again," asked an officer.

"There is no cure," replied the scientist.

"That's impossible," explained an officer, "There's always a cure for a disease."

"Is there a cure for cancer? A cure for the plague? No," he replied, "What the process is: someone is bitten, and depending on the nature of the bite and the area of the bite, they get sick, there's a prolonged period of flu-like symptoms, and they die, and their brain is activated by an enzyme which the infected produce in their saliva. **_Or_** they die from natural causes, and they get up and become one of them. There's definitely motion, and definitely motor responses, but they're not alive. They're basically on auto-pilot and they thrive on one base instinct: to consume, to devour. Everything you knew about them; their personalities, their likes, dislikes, turn-offs, their favorite ice cream flavor, the time you spent in the Bahamas, it's all irrelevant. They respond to certain aspects of life, but only on instinct."

"They'll hover in a certain area, a school, a street, an office building, only because of instinct, they'll react to internal stimuli but this reaction is momentary. They'll notice a color or an object **_only_** on instinct, but they're monsters, they're not alive. You can't cure them, you can't cure **_death_**."

"So, you're basically telling us, there's no hope," asked an officer.

"Precisely, the damage is done gentlemen," replied the scientist, "There's no hope in curing the infected, but that doesn't mean we can't control them, it doesn't mean we can't learn from them. It doesn't mean we can't learn their habits and adapt, and survive around them."

"Learn from them?" asked an officer, "They're pieces of waste, not lab rats."

"Well, we've learned quite a bit over the course of months subsequent the crumbling of Western Civilization," argued the scientist, "The first such incidents were isolated and occurred on the countryside somewhere outside New Hampshire in a graveyard. There, the dead began rising from their graves and they began their attacks and the infection spread. We were able to control it for a brief period keeping them in the countryside, but it was official. It was an infection. Soon the lynch mobs weren't enough and the numbers began to grow, then it spread into the rural city areas…then it was for real…it spread and now you know the rest of the story." He chuckled and looked up at the officers who didn't share his sentiment.

The white shades in the window began rising with a low hum as the scientist held his clipboard under his arm and stood back. "Here are two experiments I'm working on," he said as the crowd of officers and scientists stood up behind him to look. There stood a large dark room with four yellow brick walls. A small beagle stood tied in a corner barking and wagging its tail as a young officer lay on a stretcher strapped down and muzzled looking up at the window in fright. "Now watch," the scientist said with his arms crossed. The crowd in their room gasped in disgust and awe as they stood up looking through the one-sided window.

"What in gods name is going on?" asked an officer.

"Watch," the white haired general said.

"Why is he down there?" asked a scientist.

"We found him with his infantry out in New Jersey," explained the scientist, "He was the only survivor. We thought he'd be perfect for our experiment."

"What experiment?" asked the superior.

"Watch and see," he replied. The young soldier struggled to break free from the restraints as the dog barked and whimpered frantically. A door opened from the side of the wall as a large shadow moved from within a room. Suddenly a zombie emerged from the small room staggering from the room. Pale skin, arms and legs chewed to the bone, eyes dangling from its socket; the ghost and shell of a man, no longer human. He staggered through the room dragging his leg as the dog began barking, the young officer panting in horror as the zombie staggered with its back turned looking around.

It hesitated for a moment as the dog began barking frantically and looked over at its growling teeth and salivating mouth. "Watch," Dr. Watson said with stilted breath. The zombie looked over at the dog and walked away as the officers murmured softly. "It doesn't eat the animals," he whispered excited. The zombie suddenly turned and caught wind of the soldier who began bouncing up and down on the table screaming beneath his gag and struggling to break free as the zombie approached him. Quickly, it lunged at him and bit into his neck; the young man let out a sharp cry and began convulsing frantically as blood sprayed against the walls and floor. The dog continued barking frantically as the zombie continued chewing into his neck desperately, grabbing his hair and began chewing off his facial skin with a soft groan.

Two soldiers emerged from behind him and shot him in the head. The zombie violently fell back down to the ground as the scientists and officers murmured in astonishment as the white shade slowly descended.

"As you see," Dr. Watson boasted with a proud smile, "They're not attracted to animals; the dog was in plain view, only inches away and he went for our young officer."

"So?" asked General Aldo, "What is your little experiment supposed to say?"

"It's sort of an instinct to attack another human," explained Dr. Watson, "it's quite intriguing; and, **_and _**we can train animals as honing pigeons of a sort. Imagine; using them to scout for food, for survivors, to send messages back and forth to other bases. We could make secret compartments big enough for them to travel in and send them to go back and forth for us."

"They're attracted to warm flesh," he explained, "Warm **_human_** flesh."

"Very good," General Aldo said shaking his hand, "Very good, doctor."

"Ah, but you haven't seen the piece de resistance," he said with a smile, "Take a look at this." He walked over to a large gray video monitor with a blue screen and switched it on revealing a man hunched down in a corner looking up at the camera with glazed eyes.

"What is this?" asked an officer.

"This, Hispanic gentlemen is our primary research," he explained, "We have discovered how long it takes to become one."

"The infected?" asked an officer.

"Once you're bitten, you're infected," explained Dr. Watson, "It's a matter of time until you're one of them. The man you see before you, your gentlemen found outside of New York; he was bitten on the arm. When we found him he was holding his dead one year old daughter who'd been eaten."

"How did you get him to volunteer in the research?" asked general Aldo.

"We told him we'd cure him," replied Dr. Watson with a smug smile, "we needed to understand this infection and he seemed to be the perfect specimen."

He clicked a button which pressed the tape forward showing the young man groaning; "You see there… uh--he's achieving flu like symptoms: vomiting, lack of strength, cold sweats, high fever," he said pressing the button again showing the young man sitting down in the corner with his arms spread out to his sides. "Now the symptoms have decreased: he's become very pale and he's gained hallucinations, rage, and stiffness in the joints," he explained. He clicked the button again showing the young man laid out along the floor, "He's died," explained Dr. Watson, "We monitored his heart and body activity and his heart has **_stopped_**…now watch." He clicked the monitor showing the body on the floor, "About that time, ten minutes later, the heart activity had stopped, buyt suddenly, there was a suddenly unusual spike in brain activity." He clicked the button showing the young man's body as suddenly he began twitching and convulsing and slowly sat up from the floor; a blank mindless expression took over his face as he looked around.

"The infection has taken over," he said, pausing the video, "Fascinating, isn't it?"

"How long did this take?" asked General Aldo.

"Three days," explained Dr. Watson.

"Three days?" asked Aldo, "It's rather quick."

"It's a formula," explained Dr. Watson scratching his head, "There are so many loopholes towards this infection. The length of time it takes to become one depends on the number of bites, the severity of bites and the location of the bite itself. This man was bitten on the arm which took him three days to turn; now multiple bites may have caused him to progress quicker. A bite to the neck or face or shoulder travels up to the brain faster and the transformation could take a number of hours, and maybe even minutes."

"Interesting," Aldo declared, "And there's no way to stop them?"

"Well, many of the survivors and attack victims know this one and only fact, it's common knowledge as of this point," he explained, "There's only one way to kill them: the head. You shoot them once or twice in the frontal lobe and it takes them down. You cut off activity to the brain and you kill them for good; shooting anywhere else is just a waste of time. And fire works only as a repellent."

"We've managed to achieve a forefront against the Iraqi's," boasted Aldo.

"This information will give us the heads up," the officer replied, "Imagine, letting them wipe out themselves, the villages crumbling, mass genocide, napalm, clear them all out, and then we can swoop in and take what we want."

"The US will become a world on to itself," a soldier remarked proudly.

"We could sell this information to other countries," explained an officer with a sly whisper, "this research could make a pretty penny on the market."

"Money doesn't matter anymore," explained Aldo, "Oil, food, resources, it's what matters now. We can go for the third world countries first, and then inevitably our allies and other wealthy countries." They all stood among each other looking at the blue screen, the still of the infected young man looking up at the camera.

"What if the foreigners won't pay?" asked Dr. Watson.

"Then we'll let them handle this situation themselves. See how far they get with sticks and rocks while we're ahead of the curb. When we offer it and they refuse, give them a week and they'll give us what we need," explained Aldo, "but this doesn't leak out, understood? This stays in this room with us."

"Have you ever been to Paris?" asked Becky. Ana lay on her bed looking up at the ceiling as Becky sat across from her taking drags from her cigarette, leaning back in a chair attempting to break the silence amidst the rooms along the hall.

"I always wanted to," explained Ana, "Me, and Louis thought about it."

"Your husband?" asked Becky; Ana nodded, "I was never married myself, I was just always too busy, y'know? It's a lot better in Paris than in this fucking hole I can tell you that much. There were always a lot of men, but no sex." Ana chuckled and began blushing, "I'm sure some of them take it up the back end, y'know?" Becky looked back and smirked, "but that hot assed Ross has the hots for you," she boasted.

"No," Ana argued, "He's nice, but we're just friends."

"Have you seen the way he looks at you?" asked Becky, "Let me tell you something, **_if_** our time is limited, you want to get in as much fucking as possible, right? The boyscout, helping a woman across the street thing ain't exactly what **_I_** look for, but you seem to like it." She furrowed her brows suggestively as Ana smirked brushing her sheets nervously.

"No… I'm not into doing anything with anyone," she explained, "There's just too much going on here and up there."

"Okay, well, I understand," she said taking a long drag. She waved it to Ana who nodded, "You're a tough chick to go through all that shit and survive."

"What about you?" asked Ana.

"I hid…okay?" Becky replied re-asserting her story and in some sense disproving her survival against the infected willingly making herself seem as more of a coward, "I hid in the pilot's cockpit, and I heard it all happen. My entire crew was slaughtered…I'm not a survivor," she said throwing her cigarette on the floor, her demeanor changing into a depressed state, "I'm just a fucking coward."

"No, you did what you had to," Ana assured her.

"Thanks," Becky replied. She wiped her tears and stood up looking around nervously, "I gotta get outta here, I'm meeting someone…you know—" She gestured suggestively with her hands giving Ana a half smirk.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"Casper," Becky declared excited.

"Casper? Really?" she asked with a chuckle.

"He's hot right?" Becky asked.

"He is," Ana replied, "Good luck."

"An hour with me and he won't know what's what," Becky joked. She walked off as Ana lay on her bed thinking back. She began dozing off, as the murmurs of the survivors echoed in the background. They'd set up a small village, a Utopia of a sorts for the survivors of the attack and Ana was among the horde, one of many, she questioned her self-importance though; was she safe now, or was she still just waiting to die, except in a safer situation? Was she better off there? She'd fallen asleep, pondering her situation…

She awoke on the roof again; she was at the "Crossroads" mall; on the rooftop; the signs were still hung on the sidings; the wind blew them wildly as she stood up, the hot pavement burning the soles of her feet. Somehow, in some way, she wasn't terrified, she was calm, and oddly felt at peace. She began walking to the edge of the roof and looked down onto the infected; all in groups and crowds, growling and grabbing for her, but she drew no whimper, no tear, only pity and sadness. These were human beings once; these were lives, these were the workers, the mothers, the fathers, the children.

She looked across the lot filled with the endless faces, blank gazes and hungry scowls and caught a glimpse of Andy. This time he was atop his gun shop quickly standing up from his chair, turned and began writing on his marker board. She cupped her hands over her eyes to look at what he was writing and as he turned lifted the marker board above his head. She attempted to read his scribbling, but it was blurry; her vision had blocked out his message. She squinted and furrowed her brows in confusion attempting to make out his message, but he stood still as stone, his arms stretched up high as he held the message.

Ana awoke with a loud gasp sitting up from her bed as the halls outside were dark, the noise outside her room now silenced. She sat up, sweat dripping down her forehead and shirt as she tried to make sense of her location and looked across the room to see Gary standing at the door with a shy gaze, "S-Something wrong?" she muttered wiping her eyes. Gary nodded and gripped an object in his hands.

"Speak, **_now_**," she said sternly becoming suspicious.

"I can't sleep," he muttered softly.

"Do you have parents?" she asked still panting from her nightmare. Gary nodded slowly and slowly walked into the room.

"What's that?" she asked as he stood in front of her. Gary put the object on the edge of her bed revealing a small stack of comic books which fell over sliding to her knees.

"Can you read to me?" asked Gary.

"Where's your parents?" asked Ana.

"They died," he replied softly. Ana was calm now, and drew a long heavy sigh. She sat up wiping her face.

"Alright," she said with a sigh as she gathered the comic books, "I can't sleep, anyway." She lay on the bed on her sides and waved him to her. He lay beside her as she began to unfold the comic and read, "Superman?" she asked with a smirk. He nodded with a smile. "Okay, then."


	10. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Ten

**NEW YORK…**

Cars rushed through the streets of the suburban neighborhood of mostly blue and white houses that peaked along the hill. People ran in frenzy back and forth through the sidewalks, some growling, others screaming frantically and some just ran around attempting to make sense of it all. The firefighters quickly rushed off the truck and began running towards a larger sky blue house as smoke poured from an open window that looked through the bathroom which was engulfed in quickly growing flames. The fire truck rushed up to the front of the small house, its siren blaring, and stopped in front of a fire hydrant as Peter, dressed in his usual red uniform jumped off the back wielding an axe. The siren wore down, but the screams began rising from within the house as the firefighters smashed through the windows. Peter approached the front door of the house and instantly swung the axe smashing it through it's frame. "Hold on!" Peter screamed axing the door.

Swipe after swipe he smashed the door in two and finally backed up and kicked the door down. The smoke and dust cleared and he rushed into the house and gazed down at a horrifying sight as a young man stood atop an old woman attacking her as she crawled on the floor reaching out for him screaming. "Hey!" Peter ran towards her and kicked the attacker off of her as he helped the woman from the floor; the firefighters smashed through the windows attempting to break through when suddenly more attackers broke into the house and began lunging at the firefighters grabbing them from behind and biting into them. Peter gasped aloud and staggered back as he witnessed his partners being attacked and attempted to regain composure as they fought them off.

A young firefighter stood beside him watching the carnage as they struggled to compile a movement from their body,

"What in god's name…?" he muttered in fright.

"This isn't a riot," Peter said in disbelief.

"Why are they biting?" the young firefighter asked in horror.

"I don't know," Peter replied lurching in to the corner, "Don't let them." Suddenly the doors crashed down as groups upon groups of the dead toppled through the doors scratching at the floor as Peter and the firefighter backed up. Peter tore off his jacket and hat and staggered back as they began to quickly attack the firefighters; screams arose as Peter watched his group of partners being attacked and bitten into, the screams becoming louder and ever more resonant.

"We have to get the fuck out of here," Peter urged.

"What about the guys?" asked the firefighter

"We have to get out, now!" Peter said grabbing him as they rushed through the kitchen. Windows began shattering as the dead began breaking through the windows lunging at the firefighters as Peter dodged them wielding his axe. Peter looked for an exit as the young firefighter followed and rushed to the back door where they swung it open and ran down the alley. Pete lurched back as they watched as a young child biting into a little girl who lay on the sidewalk, her arms chewed to the bone.

"Get back," Peter whispered as they began backing up.

"What the fuck?" the firefighter whispered with a shocked whimper, "What the fuck is going on, here, chief?"

"Stay back," Peter whispered, "Back up slowly and we'll look for another way." He whimpered and turned running down the alley in fright as Peter turned calling to him, "No, no, don't!" Suddenly two others lunged at him from around the corner. He let out a horrible cry as they grabbed him tearing him apart in a corner as Peter panted heavily desperately looking for an escape. The young boy noticed him and turned growling aloud and jumped at him as Peter was tackled to the ground. He groaned aloud keeping him at bay with the handle of his axe as the boy growled, blood dripping from his mouth.

He kicked him off him and stood up holding his axe in defense as the boy began growling, regaining his balance. Peter stood back and with one swipe drove his axe down onto his head. The blood sprayed from his skull as the boy's eyes glazed back and fell to the ground. Peter groaned wiping the blood from his face and grabbed the axe from his head. He panted heavily looking down at the boy's body, and suddenly the screams faded as he stopped scattering to decide what to do next. He looked around desperately and ran off as the screams continued.

He ran down the driveway with his axe in tow and chopped the hose in half disconnecting it from the hydrant. He quickly jumped onto the fire truck and started the engine quickly driving off down the streets. Only he survived from his squad of firefighters, and he rushed for safety as the red truck barreled down the streets. As he drove down the streets, the truck swerving side to side, as he gazed out on to the streets where the walking dead were already scattered along the pavement, walking beside one another in their off dazes, growling hungrily as the frantic ran for cover. It was a gruesome and utterly shocking sight he'd never seen before, and it was something so overwhelming.

"I didn't know what to do," Peter said thinking back looking out onto the city, "I just ran. There was no hope… I didn't know what the fuck was happening, all I knew was that I had to get the hell out of there. It was later on I learned what in the fuck was happening. It's all too late."

"It's not too late," Clark insisted, "We can make it out of here."

"How?" asked Richard, "We're stuck up here."

"There's always hope," argued Clark.

"Christ, Clark, face it," Peter said, "We're stuck here. Look around you! Every dead body that is not killed becomes one of them. It gets up and kills. The people it kills get up and kill!"

"Then what? What do you suggest? That we rot up here?" asked Clark, "Or would you like me to walk down those stairs and tell those two poor children that all we can do now is sit and wait to die? Is that it?"

"Yes," replied Peter.

"I won't," Clark argued, "I won't! When all the options are diminished then I'll tell them, but until then, I won't say a damn thing. It's murder."

"It's not murder if you're already dead," Peter argued.

"We're not dead," Clark argued.

"We are," Richard insisted, "Look at our situation. The current situation we're in, we're basically fucked. We're royally fucked. We step out that door and we're dead, we have a rambling mental case down there--"

"—Hey!" Clark replied angrily, "Who the fuck do you think you are coming in here and talking about her like that? Huh? You have no idea, no **_idea_** how much she's been through, so you shut your mouth!"

"Quiet," Peter urged anxiously.

"Alright, alright," Richard insisted, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean that. I'm sorry." Clark huffed angrily turning his back on them. "But what I was trying to say was that she can't even talk to us without getting frightened," Richard explained, "How are we going to run through the streets and hide out with her jumping every minute at the sight of them? We'd be discovered."

"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting then you're better off saving your breath," Clark explained, "I'm not leaving them behind. If we go, they go."

"No one mentioned anything about leaving them behind," Richard assured him.

"This is pointless," Peter replied, "We can't be arguing like this. Beside, no matter how hard we try, either way we cut it, we're still going to die."

"I refuse to accept that," Clark confessed.

"Well, you'd better," Peter explained, "The sooner you admit it, the less of a fool you'll look."

"No," replied Richard, "We have to find a way out of this place."

"Yeah, sure," replied Peter, "Face it, Ritchie, we're stuck here."

"Peter," Richard argued, "We have to find a way out of here. We have supplies, but sooner or later it's going to run out and then what?"

"Well," Pete said, "You have a gun, we'll pass it around."

"You're giving up too easily," Richard argued.

"I'm tired of fighting!" Peter screamed, "My family, my friends, they're all dead!"

"They're going to discover us sooner or later," Alex declared as they all turned in surprise. "What?" asked Peter.

"Them," she explained, "They're going to see us or hear us. It's going to happen sooner or later, and when they do, what's going to happen?"

"What are you saying?" asked Richard.

"We should try to escape before they catch us while their guard is down," she explained, "If they find us, then there's really no escape."

"There's no way out," Peter insisted, "In or out, we're fucked." Peter didn't see the use of trying to escape the library, they were stuck and as the city became more crowded with the infected, and their sources running low, they knew time wasn't on their side.

**FLORIDA…**

"You ever punch one of those things in the face?" asked Casper, "It's like punching a rotten tomato or something. It's hard to believe something that can take over the world is so easy to kill."

"Easy?" asked Becky, "Ever try shooting one down? Sometimes a single shot to the head doesn't always do the trick."

"Does it for me," bragged Casper.

"Well, we're not all marksmen like you," scoffed Becky.

"Gave you a run for your money," Casper gloated.

"I would argue," Becky sighed lying under the covers, "But you'd be right." Ana sigh as she awoke that morning, but she didn't awake to the sunlight she was accustomed to, she looked up at the clock that ticked louder than she'd remembered and heard a silence sweep across the halls and dorms. Gary had left in the middle of the night after hours of reading, and she'd finally managed to fall asleep after a sedative Ross had given her to help her through the night. That morning, she walked in to the general court as the survivors assembled along the floor preparing to eat breakfast.

It was a hard method for her to attempt to blend in with the crowd, but the discomfort was almost overwhelming as she stood silently looking over the huddled masses who'd commuted along the floor, some were still gazing in to space, others were attempting as she was, and the select few seemed adjusted to their surroundings now, and she'd decided this was to be her new home, whether she liked it or not. "Good sleep last night?" Ana turned curiously, as Casper gave a smile.

"Hey," she replied, "What are you doing down here?"

"Oh, I just," he pointed back.

"Oh, yeah," she smiled, "She told me."

"No, she didn't," Casper replied.

"Yeah," Ana shrugged.

"Oh shit, you know," Casper groaned, "She's such a blabbermouth."

"Well, she didn't need to tell me," argued Ana, "You have certain giveaways."

"Giveaways?" he asked.

"Your shirt is inside out," she scoffed.

"Oh, shit," he muttered. He turned putting on his jacket. Ana gave a laugh.

"Okay," Casper replied, "You have a sharp eye, I'll give you that."

"Yeah, I do," she laughed.

"What would you say to lunch later on?" asked Casper.

"What, you mean, together?" she asked.

"Well, obviously," replied Casper.

"I don't think Becky would like that," Ana argued.

"What, a lunch between friends?" asked Casper.

"Really?" she asked suspiciously with a smirk.

"Alright," he replied, "Well, what if it goes beyond that, what's wrong with that?"

"Lunch as friends, fine," she replied, "But keep it in your pants."

"Okay, then," he shrugged, "You drive a hard bargain. See you then."

"Bye."

"Well, good afternoon, ma'am," Casper greeted sitting at the lunch table in the cafeteria as Ana walked around with a tray in her hand with a smile.

"Good afternoon," she replied sitting across from him.

"Is this gentlemanly?" asked Casper.

"Sure," replied Ana, "Corny, but gentlemanly."

"Well, I'm trying," Casper replied.

"I asked you be a gentleman, not talk like a nineteenth century aristocrat or something," she declared.

"Alright," Casper shrugged, "Well, I'll stop the proper speak anyway."

"Good."

"You look really tired," Casper observed.

"Oh, you noticed, did you?" she asked sarcastically, "I've been without sleep for four months."

"Ah, I got you beat by a couple of weeks," Casper joked.

"Lucky you," she replied.

"How was your morning?" he asked.

"Not bad," she replied, "After waiting in the crowd for two hours, I was finally able to eat breakfast, and then I took a shower with low water pressure and lukewarm water and soap that was stinging my skin. Then, when that was over with, I had a lot of time to lay in bed and think because—basically—that's all there really is to do in the morning since the rec room doesn't open until ten."

"So, all in all a good day!" Casper declared with a laugh.

"Well, I'd rather have a bad quiet day than no day at all," she replied.

"Amen," replied Casper.

"What do **_you_** do all day, anyway?" asked Ana.

"Same as you," replied Casper, "Except we're barked at while we're doing it."

"I bet it can't be that bad with that pistol you're sporting," she declared.

"Eh," Casper groaned looking down at his holstered semi-automatic, "We're supposed to carry these around."

"I wish I had one of those," replied Ana.

"If I gave you one, I'd have to give every one one," explained Casper, "And then we'd have people shooting each other for no reason."

"Yes, it'd be a return to normality," Ana replied.

"Touché," Casper replied with a furrow of his brow.

"But seriously," she explained, "It must be hell up there."

"I can only imagine," replied Casper, "But sometimes a good friend makes it much easier."

"Agreed," she replied.

"A _**gorgeous**_ friend," he declared, "It can get really lonely in bed sometimes." She smile looking away embarrassed as Casper held her hand. Ana pulled it away with a shy gaze and held her fork in to her food.

"Someone has to tell the cook how to make actual food," she replied.

"I've been trying for years," Casper replied, "But we shipped this joker in from New York, so we're cutting it a bit thin."

"Have you seen Ross lately?" asked Ana.

"Not really," replied Casper, "We don't really go back and forth with one another that often."

"Oh, really?" she asked surprised, "I assumed you were friends or something."

"I distance myself from him sometimes," Casper replied.

"Why?" she asked.

"It's—complicated—_**man stuff **_ complicated," replied Casper.

"Come on," Ana replied, "What, did he steal your girlfriend?"

"No, this isn't a daytime soap," joked Casper.

"Shut up," she laughed, "Did you two have a fight?"

"No, no," Casper replied, "We did once when we were assembled, but it ended quick. We tore up the artillery room pretty badly."

"Wow," Ana replied, "Then what is it?"

"Well---no, it's stupid," Casper replied.

"Is he gay?" asked Ana.

"Ross?" Casper laughed, "Yeah, right."

"Will you tell me already, then?" Ana asked.

"Alright," Casper sighed reluctantly, "He's—what—the guys in the core refer to as a bit of a--" There was a long silence as Ana shrugged, "—Prick? Asshole? Coward? Racist?"

"I never heard you talk like that," Casper chuckled, "It's kind of a turn on."

"Tell me," Ana insisted.

"He's a cock blocker," Casper replied.

"A--? What?" she asked furrowing her brows.

"That's a person who tends to try and outshine those who are flirting with a woman," replied Casper.

"Oh," Ana replied leaning back, "I get it."

"Right," replied Casper.

"So, he does that to you?" asked Ana.

"Sometimes, but luckily he wasn't interested in Becky," replied Casper.

"So, this is all about egos than personal grudges?" Ana deduced.

"I guess," replied Casper.

"That is so stupid," replied Ana.

"Told you."

"_**I**_ thought he was a great guy," Ana declared with a shrug, "He didn't seem that much of a jerk to me."

"He **_is_** a great guy, and he's a great commanding officer," Casper argued, "But he's also a--"

"—Right," Ana smiled, "Are all soldiers this ridiculous?"

"Most of us, yes," Casper replied as they gave a laugh.

"But I can understand now what he sees in you," Casper confessed.

"Me?" she asked with a nervous scoff.

"You're really something," Casper explained, "And it never hurts to have friends around here."

"I know," she replied.

"Especially during the lonely nights," Casper declared.

"Listen, Casper," she replied, "I--"

"I know," replied Casper, "I understand… just remember if you get lonely, I'm one flight up."

"Hey guys, mind if I sit down with you?" Ross asked standing in front of the table.

"Speak of the devil," muttered Casper.

"Hi, Ross," Ana replied, shaking his hand.

"Lieutenant," Casper nodded, "Would you like to join us?"

"Thank you," Ross replied sitting beside him, "How have you been progressing settling in Ana?"

"No complaints so far," Ana replied, "Everyone basically seems nice, but I do have reservations with the room."

"Everyone does," Ross replied, "Sorry, but we're trying to accommodate everyone. It's just basically stretching a line as far as we can go."

"I can imagine," Ana replied, "Everyone's been really great here, though."

"We're pretty much experiencing the same thing in the soldier's quarters," explained Ross.

"Except you don't have a commander yelling at you every five minutes," Casper replied.

"Exactly," Ross replied, "But when you're around those types of people so much you tend to--"

"--block them out?" Casper asked. Ana chortled suddenly, spitting water from her mouth and covered it as she gave a laugh. She began cleaning the table as Casper gave a mischievous laugh. Ross furrowed his brows confused, "Am I missing something?" he asked. "I wouldn't know, sir," Casper shrugged innocently, prompting Ana to laugh again.

Later that afternoon Ana sat in the doctor's office in the emergency ward silently. She sighed waiting to be seen as she looked around, the white curtain draped in front of her as patients lay in beds resting, others were being stitched up with a certain material she couldn't make out. She leaned back watching in surprise as Ross stood at the edge of a bed across from her and watched over as a priest sat beside an ailing patient humming his last rites. She stood up curious and watched as Ross looked over by the priest and furrowed his brows. The priest nodded and stood up as Ross drew his gun with a silencer attached and stood still as stone watching. The priest looked back walking off nervously as Ross stood over the patient with his gun drawn.

"Oh my god," Ana whispered to herself in disbelief. There was a long silence as Ross stood still as stone, not even breathing, there was a slight rustle in the bed, and there was a loud click as Ross fired once, stopped and fired again. The patient lay back again as Ross lowered his gun. He looked over the patient and took his sheet covering his head. "Clean up," Ross said with a whisper. Three soldiers covered in white uniforms rushed over and dropped the body in to a large clear plastic bag, "That's another one for the fire," Ross ordered holstering his gun. He gave a saddened grimace and saw Ana who looked over saddened.

"Hi," Ross said walking to her.

"Hi," she replied sitting down on the stretcher.

"You didn't see that did you?" asked Ross.

"Yeah," Ana replied.

"Damn," Ross muttered, "You shouldn't have."

"What was that?" she asked.

"A mercy killing," Ross replied.

"You killed that man," she declared.

"He was already dead," argued Ross. She sigh slumping her shoulders, "That was just…"

"I know," he replied, "But it's a necessary evil. We keep all the people here under strict monitoring. And then when it's time, we execute them."

"You do that all the time?" she asked.

"Not really," replied Ross, "But he was a friend. He asked me to do it."

"I'm sorry," she replied.

"It's okay," Ross replied, "It's not an easy thing."

"What did he die of?" she asked.

"Pneumonia," he replied, "He was sick for a good while."

"I'm sorry," she insisted.

"It's okay," he assured her, "What are you here for?"

"A check up," Ana explained, "They called me here."

"Ah."

"Do you think it's anything bad?" she asked.

"No," Ross assured her, "It's just routine. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, really."

"I'm kind of nervous," she sighed.

"Aren't you a nurse?" he asked.

"It's a different situation, isn't it?" Ana replied.

"Do you want me to stay with you until you're done?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted, "Can you?"

"Sure," he replied, "I have nowhere to be, anyway."

"What was that material they were using for the bandages in the booth over there?" she asked.

"Dollar bills," Ross scoffed.

"Really?" she asked surprised, "Why dollar bills?"

"It saves supplies and we have so much of it, we just decided to use it," explained Ross, "We just sterilize it, and it's as good as a bandage."

"That's pretty clever," she declared.

"It's kind of funny, isn't it?" asked Ross, "A year ago people would have killed each other for a hundred bucks, and now we're using it for toilet paper and bandages. Ain't that the shit irony's made of?"

"Back in the mall I'd have to improvise, and I'd occasionally use magazines for bandages," she explained rubbing her neck. "What's wrong with your neck?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied, "It's that fucking bed they gave me. It's like sleeping on the floor or something."

"Figured you'd be used to that by now," Ross joked.

"Ha ha," Ana groaned, "Hilarious."

"You don't know how to fix the muscle?" asked Ross.

"I was a nurse, not a chiropractor," she argued.

"Alright," he sighed, "Fine." He stood up and stood behind her reaching for her neck. "Wait," she blurted lurching back, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to strangle you to death, what do you think?" Ross replied.

"No, no, no," she insisted, "You're not going to do any funny business."

"Will you calm down?" asked Ross, "You are such a baby."

"You're not cracking my neck," she demanded.

"Turn your head," he ordered.

"Ross--!"

"—Will you do it?" he insisted. She sighed turning her face, "Lower your head," he ordered.

She sighed slowly lowering her head and slumped her shoulders as he grasped her neck. She gasp flinching, "I didn't even do anything," Ross argued.

"Your hands are ice cold!" she argued.

"God damn," Ross sighed. He slowly began rubbing the back of her neck as she gave a slight groan going limp. He gave a slight squeeze as she yelped.

"What?" he asked.

"God damn it, Ross," Ana winced.

"I do declare. That **_is_** a tight muscle," Ross chuckled.

"If you hurt me again, I'm going to kick you in **_your_** favorite muscle," she warned. "Wow," Ross exclaimed, "What in the fuck has you so tight in the ass today?"

"Nothing," she replied, "I'm just—I don't know."

"Talk to me," Ross asked.

"You're not **_my_** commanding officer," Ana argued.

"But, I have a gun," Ross argued, "It makes noise and kills things… **_some_**times things that were killed prior."

"Very intimidating," Ana replied.

"Come on, please?" asked Ross.

"Okay," she sighed, "I'm a bit on edge here."

"Get the living loving fuck out of here," joked Ross.

"I'm serious," Ana chuckled as he gave a laugh, "It's just I don't like this place."

"Yes, safety **_is_** very unappealing," Ross replied.

"I don't know," replied Ana, "It's just… I think Buzz' conspiracy theories got to me a bit. I've learned over the months that sometimes, too good to be true is usually the case, you know?"

"Yep," replied Ross rubbing her neck, "I understand your point. But I've been here longer. You just have to take the good for the bad."

"I just feel like a big piece of meat in a Tupperware case," Ana declared.

"I know," replied Ross, "Where is that damn doctor?"

"That feels _**so**_ good," Ana groaned.

"Told you," replied Ross, "I used to do this for my sister sometimes. She was a gymnast, and she'd always come back with a crick in her neck," he chuckled, "And every time, she'd walk in through the door with some trophy, sit down on a chair, and I'd rub her neck for an hour while she gave me a play by play of the competition."

"How old was she?" asked Ana.

"Seventeen," replied Ross, "She was a baby when I first saw her--obviously—but, god, she was my baby sister. When mom had her, she just palmed her off to me."

"She abandoned her?" asked Ana.

"Mentally, and emotionally, but she was always there to booze up," Ross replied, "I raised her in spite of being only fifteen at the time."

"And she was a gymnast?" Ana asked surprised, "Sounds like you did a good job."

"Yeah," Ross replied with a tender smile, "Yeah, I did my best."

"What happened to her?" asked Ana.

"Let's change the subject," Ross replied clearing his throat, "Well, do you think your neck is good now?"

"Oh, god yes," Ana groaned turning her head around slowly, "Thank you."

"You should learn to trust me more," Ross replied.

"Well, when you have the gun that makes noise and kills things, it's kind of difficult," Ana replied, "And you're in a good mood today."

"Well, I have my good days and my bad," replied Ross, "Not to mention, I'm much more loose and relaxed when I'm not commanding soldiers and whatnot."

"I'd like to see you _**really**_ be a soldier," Ana joked.

"It's not pretty," Ross joked, "I get straight and stiff, and veins bulge everywhere." She chuckled.

"So, you haven't told me why you're in a good mood," Ana replied.

"I'm just in a good mood," Ross argued, "I don't ask those types of questions anymore; I just take it as is."

"Well, good," Ana replied, "I wish _**I ** _had days like that."

"You've only been here a month," replied Ross, "You have to give it time."

"Yeah," Ana replied, "Maybe I'll form a family here eventually."

"Decisive, aren't you?" Ross replied sarcastically.

"Well, concrete walls, no windows, and flesh eating corpses wasn't exactly my picturesque dream," she explained.

"Worked for the beav," Ross replied.

"I just wish I had a better bed," Ana scoffed.

"Don't we all," replied Ross.

"I don't know how I'll sleep tonight," she groaned.

"So, you had lunch with Casper," Ross declared.

"Yeah, why?" she asked.

"No, nothing," he replied leaning back in his chair, biting his nails, "I was just rectifying my suspicions."

"Well, he asked me out this morning," Ana replied, "And he was so cute, I couldn't say no."

"You know, he's a nympho," Ross declared.

"How is that relevant to food?" asked Ana.

"I don't know," Ross replied, "Just thought you'd be warned."

"Why, exactly?" she asked.

"Nothing," Ross replied, "And you're having lunch again?"

"Only when I'm hungry," replied Ana.

"That's not what I meant," replied Ross.

"I know," she smiled, "You don't have to protect me, lieutenant, I'm a big girl."

"Excusè moi," replied Ross, "I was just trying to--"

"—You're jealous!" Ana gasped with a wide mouth.

"What?" he asked, "Don't be stupid, I am not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Admit it," Ana insisted.

"Bite me," Ross replied.

"Kill me and I just might," she joked.

"That's not funny," Ross replied.

"What, so you can make a joke and I can't?"

"Not about dying," Ross insisted.

"You threatened to shoot and strangle me!" she declared.

"Oh, sure cite precedent all you want," Ross replied.

"Just admit you're jealous and I'll apologize," she argued.

"This is not a hostage situation," Ross replied.

"It is," she declared.

"Good morning, Ana," said the doctor walking in, "How are you, today?"

"Oh thank the fucking god," Ross replied jumping from his seat.

"Something wrong, sir?" asked the doctor.

"Just a pain in the ass," he replied looking at Ana who gave a devilish smile, "I got to go."

"Why are you rushing off?" asked the doctor.

"Business," replied Ross, "And by the way, it took nearly an hour today for you. What was so important that you left a patient waiting so long?"

"Sorry, sir," he replied.

"And the next time you leave a patient waiting so long, and you'll be doing furnace duty," Ross warned staring him down. The doctor looked away frightened.

"Yes, sir."

"You know what that is?" asked Ross.

"Yes, sir."

"Good," replied Ross patting his back, "Now get to work."


	11. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Eleven

"Ooh, they can smell us," Casper muttered.

"How do you know?" asked a soldier.

"Take a look," he replied. Casper and another soldier stood at the watchtower looking over at the sea of the dead looking out over the fences growling and looking for a human presence.

"What are you pointing at?" asked the soldier, nervously.

"They're smelling for us," Casper reeled, "They're raising their noses in an attempt to smell flesh. I did _**not**_ know they could do that. You think you have them figured out and then they pull a stunt like this."

"They couldn't do that when all of this started," explained the soldier with discontent.

"Tricky," Casper scoffed in amusement.

"Do you think they smell **_us_**?" asked the soldier.

"I gather not," replied Casper, "But they can hear us, and they sense the motion of something living in here."

"That's not funny," the soldier replied.

"I'm not joking, moron," replied Casper.

"They can't break in here," the soldier declared.

"How do you know that?" asked Casper, "It's _ **always**_ possible for them to come in here and take us. Either way, you'd be on the winning side if they _**did**_ turn you."

"Shut up," the soldier demanded.

"Want to go down and greet them?" Casper joked.

"No."

"I can get you transferred if you want," Casper continued, "Ever get furnace duty?"

"Shut up!"

"Alright, alright," Casper sighed, "God you Catholics are so humorless."

"Private Rodriguez," a commanding officer declared. Casper turned saluting. "Yes sir?"

"At ease," he replied.

"We're just keeping watch, sir," Casper explained, "I've been here since two, and it's seven, I was wondering--"

"--Not yet," replied the officer.

"Permission to ask why, sir," replied Casper.

"We have some business we'd like to discuss with you," he explained.

"We who?" asked Casper.

"Just come with me," he declared. Ana sat at dinner in the crowded café that evening, looking around at the utterly disaffecting faces that ate side by side in the tables and gave a slightly wide-eyed grimace as she looked for a familiar face.

"Okay," Ross said plopping down in front of Ana.

"Okay what?" she asked.

"Let's say I _**was**_ jealous," he replied.

Ana sighed slumping down, "God, let it go," Ana replied, "I was just kidding with you." Ross sighed pounding his fork in to his food, "Why are you always eating alone?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied, "Call it force of habit."

"Well, you're never going to be comfortable if you don't socialize," he declared.

"Who can I socialize _**with**_?" she asked, "I mean, I-I feel like I'm in the trenches at war. It's hard to have a conversation with people that doesn't feel forced these days. Every time I try talking to someone here all we do is talk about what happened out _**there**_."

"You can't escape reality," Ross replied.

"I'm not trying to, I just want a normal fucking conversation about something other than flesh eating cannibals," Ana argued with a heavy sigh, "To be honest… you're a sight for sore eyes."

"What makes you say that?" asked Ross.

"Well, I'm," she smirked, "Always more comfortable around you than anyone else." She blushed looking away.

"Well, since we're being so Frank with one another... to answer your question, it was you," he replied.

"What question?" asked Ana.

"About why I was in a good mood that day," Ross explained leaning in, "It was because of you. To be honest my day was crappy, I mean it's never fun having to kill one of your friends, but, when I saw you there, it was a huge weight off my shoulders."

"Ross," Ana said, "I like you. And to be honest I feel the same way, but—I'm not ready to get in to a relationship right now." Ross nodded disappointed, "Would you settle for a friendship?" asked Ross.

"Definitely," she replied.

"Good," he declared with a smile.

"You're my guardian angel," she declared. He gave a smile, "I also had a puppy," he declared. She gave a laugh. "Give me a break here, rejecting you isn't easy when you're being cute," she declared. "His name was Elmo," Ross replied as Ana gave a laugh.

There was a loud shrill siren that blared throughout the base. Ana darted from her seat with a frightened shudder and stood up to run as Ross grabbed her by the shoulders holding her back, "Wait, wait, wait!" he yelled.

"We have to go!" she yelled, struggling.

"No, no, no," Ross replied grabbing her, "It's just a drill."

"A what?" she asked.

"A drill," Ross explained, "They do that every two weeks. Relax." She panted with a shiver and looked around as everyone in the café stood up and began walking to the door.

"What's it for?" she asked.

"It's a precautionary measure," replied Ross, "It's just in case those things break in, it helps sort out everyone."

"Oh… Oh god," she muttered with a heavy pant.

"Relax," Ross pleaded. She slumped down going limp as he slowly eased her back down on to the chair.

"Shouldn't we go, too?" asked Ana.

"No, it's okay," replied Ross, "They just study the exits and test the time it takes to get down there most times, it's okay."

She leaned forward panting as she wiped tears from her eyes, "It's okay," Ross assured her patting her back. "Come on," Ross sighed, "Let's have some coffee." The hordes of people stood in the courtyards looking up at the soldiers giving their presentation on escaping should the slim chance of the walking dead making their way in occur. For some it was a new experience which harkened a sense of fear upon them, but for some, it was just standard routine.

"And, if, by some unknown circumstance, should one of the stenchers make their way within the quarters you are to--"

"—Make your way in the parallel exits which will then lead you to underground quarters where you will await instructions," Becky muttered to herself following along.

"You shouldn't do that," Casper warned.

"Why?" she asked, scrunching his shirt she wore, "It's become an activity for me these days. Is it sick that I actually look forward to these things?"

"No, it's sick that you know the entire presentation," replied Casper, "What's funny is that they'd actually pay attention to **_you_** if you stepped up there with my shirt and nothing else on."

"I'm willing to take that chance," Becky joked.

"These are intended as serious presentations," Casper argued.

"No, these are intended as constant reminders that we are under the mercy of these buff, white, blonde, blue eyed, but slightly out of their minds armed soldiers who may or may not know how to escape," Becky replied, "It's the classic tale of the government keeping us under their control through fear of being eaten alive."

"Wow," Casper joked, "That's quite the elaborate however outlandish theory."

"Well, when all you have to do in this place is eat, think, fuck, and sleep," she explained, "You begin to start thinking a lot clearer in terms of these things."

"I beg to differ," Casper replied.

"False sense of security, constant state of fear, concrete walls, no windows, flashing us your big guns, control, control, control," she declared, "It works, though, I have to admit."

"You know just because you can talk doesn't mean you can automatically make sense," scoffed Casper.

"You make fun of me because you know it's true," replied Becky.

"You have a knack for conspiracy theories though," Casper joked.

"It's not a theory," Becky argued.

"Alright, come on, baby," Casper said steering her around, "I'm not finished with you yet by a long shot."

"How many of them out there?" asked Ross.

"About fifty," replied a soldier, "I counted five times."

"Fifty?" he asked, "In this area?"

"Why, would there be more?" asked the soldier.

"The fires drew them in to this place," Ross explained, "There _**should**_ be more."

"How many more?" asked the soldier.

"A few hundred," he argued.

"There's no way there can be that much," explained the soldier, "They're probably fooled thinking no one is in here and left."

"I don't know," replied Ross. He thought for a second watching them linger, "How the fuck can they just stand there? Is it me or do they look like they're planning something?"

"I seriously doubt it, sir," the soldier scoffed.

"Look, look," he said, leaning over the watch tower witnessing as the corpses pressed against the fences. One of them who looked like a young man with part of his face torn off, tapped his chewed to the bone hands against the electric fence and groaned looking up and down the metal links. "It's burning," Ross whispered watching curiously thought slightly riveted, "It's burning." The monster tapped his hands against the gate groaning and looked over at the group.

"Don't get stupid," Ross muttered softly, watching the spectacle. The soldier looked at Ross confused, "Don't get ballsy," Ross whispered. The corpse jumped on to the gate and with a loud fizz shook and dropped to the ground as the group trampled over him.

"Ooh," the soldier gasped surprised.

"Shit," Ross exclaimed.

"Did you see that?" asked the soldier.

"No, I was covering my eyes the whole time," Ross declared sarcastically.

"He's such a moron," the soldier chuckled, "He didn't know that thing was electric."

"Yes, he did," Ross replied.

"How do you figure?" asked the soldier, "You saw him trying to climb."

"He was looking for a weak spot," Ross revealed.

"What?" the soldier asked as the group in the watchtower looked on in surprise at his deduction.

"Say that again?" asked a soldier.

"He was looking for a weak spot," Ross explained, "He tapped his hands against the gate looking for a spot that didn't electrocute, and then when he became frustrated, he jumped on to it and showed everyone else that the fence would hurt them if they touched it."

"That's bullshit," a soldier argued.

"Oh, yeah?" asked Ross, "Then how come none of the others are banging the gates anymore?" They all looked over by the line of electric fences watching the walking dead standing at the foot of the gates, no longer banging, but staring silently in the darkness; the dead of night really making its ways through the watchtower. It was one of the first moments of silence everyone in the watchtower had heard in almost five years, and it was very off-putting and frightening.

"Amazing," Ross scoffed with a smirk.

"What do we do?" asked a soldier obviously alarmed.

"Nothing," Ross replied, "Absolutely nothing."

"They're just standing there," explained a soldier.

"That's the genius of it," Ross scoffed, "Just go about your business, men. And pray to god the electricity doesn't go down." Ross walked off back down the steps as the troop looked to one another alarmed. "Why did he say that?" a soldier asked frightened.

"They're thinking," Ross declared.

"Bullshit," the major replied.

"Sir, I saw them," Ross replied, "I saw them planning, and I saw them testing the fence for a weak spot. If one of them finds it, then--"

"--It's just an electric fence," the major scoffed.

"An electric fence one day," Ross argued, "But the next day, who knows?"

"You're really losing it," the major insisted.

"No, I'm not," Ross insisted scoffed, "I saw them. Everyone on the watchtower saw them!"

"They're as smart as animals," the major replied.

"Exactly," Ross explained, "Ever see an animal in the zoo? Trying to find a weak spot in his cage, and chewing through it just to get out? Actually, they're more like small children. They're testing it, and trying to find a way in and are not going to stop until they do, I mean a five year old can sit for three hours trying to solve a puzzle imagine what these things can do. Think about it, there are at least three billion of those monsters out there, five thousand in the surrounding perimeter of the base, their resources are innumerable. One of these days, one of those things is going to wise up and eventually--"

"--We are not going to let that happen," the major assured him.

"Are you studying them?" asked Ross, "Are you keeping tabs on them aside from some dinky watchtower and a few voluntary officers?"

"Watch your candor, soldier," the major warned.

"My apologies, sir," Ross explained, "But the signs are there. Just because the brain is dead, doesn't mean it's not still working. They're going to break in here unless we do something."

"We have the fence, and at least four waves of defense should any of them decide to try and break in, which they **_won't_**," explained the major, "Give us some credit, here."

"That's not enough," Ross replied, "We should be studying them."

"We are," replied the major.

"We should be paying attention to them in their habitat," Ross bargained, "I mean, one of them will eventually find a way in--"

"—this conversation is over," the major declared. Ross sighed giving a nod, "Go back to work," the major ordered.

"Yes, sir," Ross replied with gritted teeth. He sighed and stormed off as the major sat down behind his desk.

"Keep this quiet," Casper ordered.

"Sure," Ana whispered.

"You promise?" he asked.

"I promise," she assured him. Ross stood in the artillery room loading his pistol up as the firing went off in the distance and placed the gun in to his holster and looked back at the soldiers.

"What are you doing?" asked private Murphy.

"Nothing," replied Ross, "Just… protecting myself."

"We don't wear pistols unless we're up there, though," he argued.

"I know," Ross replied holstering his gun, "This is for just in case."

"Merry Christmas," Casper scoffed. They sat at the foot of Ana's bed across from each other that afternoon as Casper slid a small white box over to her lap.

"You bought me something?" she asked with a laugh.

"Well, not exactly bought," Casper laughed, "But it's for Christmas."

"Casper, you shouldn't have," she smiled.

"Open it," Casper replied.

She took off the top of the box and gave a laugh. She reached down and held up a semi-automatic with a laugh.

"I thought you said we couldn't have one of these?" she asked.

"I made an exception for you," Casper explained, "You know anything to help you get comfortable here."

"This is sweet," she scoffed, "You shouldn't have."

"Its fine," Casper explained, "I called in a favor from one of the guys at the armory and he hooked me up. Do you know how to fire it?"

"Sure," she replied looking down at it, "All too well."

"Good," he replied, "But don't show it to anyone, okay?"

"I promise," she replied, "I'll keep it here for safekeeping. This is great." She gave him a hug, and he turned his head to her kissing her as she quickly took her head away.

"I got _**my **_present," he whispered caressing her face.

"Casper… I…"

"…I know," he replied, "But I just had to try."

"I can't," she whispered. He leaned in and they kissed again getting closer. Ross stood at the table in the armory looking over his shoulder as he began secretly pocketing clips in to his pocket. He sighed shoving a pistol in to his boot and turned rushing off as a few of the guards walked over to put their rifles back in to the shelves.

That afternoon Ross snuck by the civilians with all the jackets and weapons he could pocket without being seen. He walked past Ana's room watching Casper step out and walk off without noticing his presence. He gave a slight sigh and walked in to his room sliding a bag out from under his bed and threw clips and the pistols in to a black duffle bag. The door opened as Ana walked in and Ross threw the bag under the bed.

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't know you were busy."

"No, no," Ross assured her slightly surprised, "It's okay."

"I haven't seen you all day," she explained, "I was just curious about what you were up to."

"Well, I've seen better days," he declared.

"Anything you want to talk about?" she asked.

"No," he replied, "What's been going on with _ **you**_?"

"Nothing," she replied, "I was with Casper today."

"Oh," he replied attempting to hide his disappointment, "You guys went to lunch or something?"

"No," she explained, "He was just giving me a present."

"Oh," he sighed, "What did he get you?"

"Just some clothes," she replied.

"He has quite an imagination," Ross joked.

"What's wrong?" she asked noticing his distraction.

"Nothing," he replied, "I'm just really busy."

"Okay, sorry," she shrugged, "I'll just go."

"Uh—I have a question," he said standing up.

"Okay," she shrugged.

"Are you going to that thing in the courtyard?" he asked.

"What thing?" she asked.

"They're having a Christmas social thing," he explained, "It's going to be pretty dumb, but everyone is going and they're going to try and raise the spirits of the people living here, and I thought maybe you'd want to go with me or something—if you wanted, I meant."

"Sure," she replied smiling, "On one condition."

"Anything," he declared.

"You have to tell me what's wrong with you sooner or later," she joked.

"I will," he replied forcing a smile, "I promise. Okay?"

"Okay," she smiled.

"Our supplies are not infinite," a major declared, "Sooner or later, we _**will**_ run out of supplies."

"It's a big world," the sergeant argued.

"It's a small world," the major corrected, "A very small world. And we have a troop that will not set foot out of those doors, because they're in no real obligation to do so, being a voluntary force. They're so frightened to die, being put in jail seems like a cakewalk to them, and we're running out of everything. Our helicopters are running out of gas, our electricity is fading, and I'm just not sure how long we can keep this up."

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" asked the sergeant.

"That's the question," the major replied, "What **_can_** we do? We've taken on more than we can chew, so to speak, and it may come to the case of letting the rats sink with the ship while the first mates save themselves."

"That's not an option," the sergeant argued.

"We'll see," the major replied, "We'll call the troops here tonight to see where they stand on this issue."

"They won't abide by it," the sergeant warned.

"When we apply it to self-preservation, trust me, they'll get with the program."


	12. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Twelve

That night was lighter and more optimistic than ever as everyone in the hideaway gathered in the square to attempt to have fun and celebrate a holiday that didn't really exist anymore, but to many of them, Christmas was an almost inviting aspect that added a sense of normality and the mundane to the current situation they were in. The small square with the rooms had become a makeshift village for everyone that helped comfort them. Though the rooms were separate, the doors to the rooms hardly ever closed, and that night, Ana and everyone else attempted to place their current situation in to the recesses of their minds. That night Ross attempted to pretend, and he did his damndest in doing so, and feigning happiness as if nothing worried him.

Ana didn't notice it just yet, but they all had their own little secrets, including she who wielded her gift from Casper in a holster she wore under her clothing which added an extra sense of comfort to her. They all gathered in the square, some of the soldiers and the survivors who mingled and partied as best they could. Ross and Ana stood in the crowd sipping on low price champagne that had now become a sheer rarity, a luxury, and now as rare as a comet. "Christmas in a military base," Ana declared, "If that doesn't scream festive, then I don't know what does."

"Don't think of it as a military base," Ross declared, "Think of it more as a home away from home."

"Concrete doesn't exactly add nuance," she joked.

"That's true," he scoffed, "But… you know, at least try to have some fun."

"I'm trying," she insisted sipping the champagne, "Calm down."

"You ever been punched out by a guy before?" he joked.

"Not lately," she replied, "I wonder where everyone else is."

"Casper?" he asked.

"No," she argued, "I know where he is."

"With Becky again?" asked Ross.

"Yep," she scoffed, "They never stop."

"Neither does **_he_**, obviously," replied Ross.

"What do you mean?" asked Ana.

"Nothing," he replied.

"No, you what were you talking about?" she asked.

"Nothing," he insisted.

"Come on, you're a bad liar," she argued, "Tell me."

"Leave me alone," he joked.

"I want to collect that favor now," Anna declared.

"What favor?" he asked.

"The one where you tell me everything," she explained.

"You said sooner or later," he replied, "It's too **_soon_**, so I'll tell you **_later_**."

"Funny," she scoffed, "Very funny. Are you going to tell me?"

"Probably not," he admitted.

"You don't trust me or something?" she asked.

"Do **_you_** trust me?" he asked.

"I don't know," she confessed.

"You don't know?" he asked confused.

"Hey, Ana!" Becky said with a smile.

"Hey, Becky," she smirked giving her a hug. Ross gave a slight grimace of surprise as they talked.

"Merry Christmas," she boasted.

"You look like you're having fun," Ana declared.

"I am," she replied, "It's one of the rare times people around here have fun without it getting too depressing."

"I'll wait for you in your room," he whispered in her ear. He walked off as she looked back despondently.

"You and Ross are having a fight or something?" Becky asked noticing the friction.

"Not really," she replied forcing a smile, "We were just talking."

"He has a great backside, I'll give you that," Becky smirked leaning to the side watching him walk off.

"You look like you've been having some fun," Ana noticed.

"I am," she replied, "I've just been mingling and having a few drinks. I love Christmas, back home it was always a big deal for me. The rest of my family were always crying about it, I loved it. You know, I couldn't tell you, but I'm very glad you're here with us."

"Why's that?" Ana scoffed.

"I've never had a sister," she explained, "And you're the closest thing to it."

"Thank you," Ana chuckled giving her a hug.

"You're one of us, now," Becky declared, "I hope you like it here."

"So far, so good," she replied.

"What do you think?" Becky asked showing off her dress.

"It's great," Ana replied, "Where did you get it?"

"I made it," she replied, "I picked up sewing to take up my time and I made this."

"It's beautiful," she replied.

"Thank you," she said, "I wish I could get you something; I hate to have a Christmas without handing out presents."

"That's okay," Ana assured her, "You don't have to get me anything."

"Okay," she smirked.

"Becky," Casper called in the distance, "We have to go."

"I'm coming," she replied.

"Where are you guys headed?" asked Ana.

"We're going to have some alone time," Becky said furrowing her brows suggestively, "It's going to be a very merry Christmas."

"Okay," Ana laughed, "Have fun."

"Love you," she declared walking off with a wave. Ana smirked waving and watched as she and Casper walked off in to the stairwell. She turned as everyone in the square began to sing and walked off to her room. She walked in to see Ross sitting on a chair beside her bedside table.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked.

"What about?" she asked.

"You don't trust me?" he asked.

"I don't know," she sighed closing her door, "I can't say yes, but—I don't think I trust anyone in this place, to be honest."

"You can trust me," Ross swore, "I'm not like everyone else in here. I'm not some trigger happy, horn dog hothead looking to show he has balls."

"I never said you were," Ana argued crossing her arms.

"I'm not Casper," he declared leaning back.

"I don't want you to be," she replied softly.

"I know you and he have something special," he explained, "But--"

"—Wait, what makes you say that?" she asked.

"Well, when I was going to my room the other day I saw him coming out of your room," he told her.

"Yes, but nothing happened," she scoffed sitting at the side of her bed.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing happened," she explained, "I mean—we kissed, but beyond that, I wasn't really interested. He's a great guy, but… I'm not looking for anything like that." There was a slight buzz in the air over the intercom, "Would all the officers and guards within the vicinity of the base please report to the conference room ASAP for a procedure rundown. Would all the officers and guards within the vicinity of the base please report to the conference room ASAP for a procedure rundown, thank you."

"A meeting?" Ross said looking up, "Now?" He stood up and walked to the door. She stood behind him curious, "You have to go?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I do," he explained standing by the door, "I'm only a lieutenant but I'm one of the big bugs here."

"Can we finish talking when you come back?" she asked.

"Definitely," he replied. He leaned in giving her a kiss and gave a half smirk, "Wait for me. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Those god damn, mother fucking, pieces of shit!" Casper groaned standing beside a large table. Becky lay under a heavy sheet sitting up and sighed laying back, "You have to go?" she complained.

"Yes," Casper replied putting his pants on.

"We were just getting started," she explained.

"It's not my fault, alright," he argued, "These fucking soldiers are all a bunch of puppets."

"How long will it take?" she huffed.

"About an hour," he replied.

"An hour?" she asked, "What am I supposed to do for an hour?"

"Stay put," he ordered, "I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh, for fuck sake," she sighed.

"Stay put baby," he declared rushing off. There were rows of chairs set up among a large conference room as the soldiers from the base that could get away slowly emerged in to the office. The commanding officers, the big bugs, the powerful sat on a podium along a long table watching without movement as the soldiers all met within the room and sat down looking out at them.

Ross had a sheer presence all his own, as he stepped in to the room drawing looks and greetings from the soldiers and the commanding officers noticed as he shook hands and gave greetings in his own soft spoken manner.

"Alright," the major announced, "Take a seat."

"Lieutenant," the sergeant said standing up, "Sit here by us."

"Yes sir," Ross said. He walked behind them shaking their hands and sat at the end as the soldiers quickly drew to a hush.

"Alright; now on to the business of this meeting," the major announced.

"What's a procedure rundown, sir?" asked Ross.

"A codeword," the major replied standing in front of the audience, "We're here tonight to talk about a business concerning the welfare of this base, this—cardboard box in the sand."

"What about it?" asked a soldier.

"To put it bluntly and frankly," he explained, "We're at a crossroads here. When the world came to a close of the curtain, this base, located at the end of the city, was set up as a safe haven and recovery zone for the victims. But as time went on, we became a home, and in some ways our very own city. It's been nearly three years now and this cardboard box in the sand has become a world on to its own."

"We're very proud of the progress we've made," the sergeant said.

"Indeed we are," the major declared, "But there comes a time, when we can't just stay put. Sometimes there are events that happen beyond our control that leave us wondering if the progress has all been in vain. What was once a world on to its own, has now become a prime target for infiltration from outside forces, and as times goes on, we're discovering that we may not be as safe as we think.

"Plain and simple, we're running out of the essentials," the sergeant announced, "We find we have over four hundred people living on this base alone and we're running out of everything we need. We're running low on medicinal supplies, first aide, artillery, space, and food."

"So, what are you suggesting?" asked a Casper.

"It's time for us to move on," explained the Major.

"Like—we move everything to another base?" asked a soldier.

"Well—we move our officers," the major replied. There grew a stir within the crowd as chatter began amidst the soldiers in attendance. "Now, this wasn't an easy decision," the major replied, "We've been discussing this for the past year. Before we explain what we'd do, we must explain. Fact is, we're in over our heads here. We've taken in survivor after survivor and they're draining our resources whole. This place was originally intended as a recovery center, and they've become leeches now, and we can't support them any longer."

"What are you suggesting?" a soldier asked.

"We either notify them and send them out," he explained, "Or we let them live here with access in or out and they can scrounge for themselves."

"That's murder," a soldier argued.

"It's not murder," the major argued.

"That's bullshit!" Ross yelled. They all turned to him.

"Excuse me?" asked Major.

"Do you hear yourself?" Ross asked, "You're talking about murder."

"We're talking about self-preservation, lieutenant," The Major argued.

"Self-preservation?" Ross scoffed, "Self-preservation is saving yourself; what you're suggesting is murder. You have the balls to suggest that we tell these poor people in this safe haven that they have to go out there and risk being killed? That's a fucking joke, and that's murder."

"Then what do you suggest, Lieutenant?" asked the Major.

"Send out teams of four to scavenge the surrounding area," he explained, "They can search for supplies."

"It's easier said than done," the sergeant argued.

"That's just an excuse," Ross insisted, "You take in these people, cure them, put them up and now because we're running a little low you're going to evict them?"

"In the end of the day," the major explained, "You can preach all you want about morals and ethics and your altruistic attempts as a hero, but when we run out of supplies what then? At the end of the day you have to ask yourself, which is more important, people I barely know, or myself?" He turned to the audience, some were nodding in agreement, and some were on Ross' thought process.

"So, you bit off more than you can chew," Ross declared, "That's tough. It's not these people's faults you were ill-prepared to handle them! I told you to stop looking six months ago, and you people wouldn't listen. You have to deal with it now, because you have all those people down there who spent hours celebrating a holiday that doesn't even exist anymore in a vain attempt to gain some happiness that used to exist to them, and now you're going to send women, children, the elderly out there to die? I'm not going to stand by and watch you do this to them!" He stood up looking to them, "Put yourself in their shoes," he explained, "Would you want this? Would you want to be pushed out of a safe zone and told you have to go out there and fend for yourself? That's not what I signed up for." There was a long silence in the room, "This will sound trite, but when I signed on to be an officer, I signed on to the protect people. I'm not going to live with myself knowing I killed these innocent people." The major sighed turning to them.

"You disappoint me, lieutenant," the major declared, "How do the rest of you feel about this?" The audience gave a slight stir murmuring, "Alright," the sergeant replied, "Alright. This is not a definite plan of action. We were just considering this. We will consider other courses of action, okay? We've been discussing alternatives for a long time and this was one we wanted to run by you all." Ross sighed sitting down, "We demand full confidentiality," he demanded, "What we discussed in this room stays in this room, understood?"

"Yes, sir," the audience said in unison.

"You're all excused," the major declared.

"God damn it," an officer whispered leaning over to the sergeant's ear, "I was sure he'd go for it."

"This was unexpected, that's for sure," the major sighed.

"What now?" asked the officer.

"Don't worry," the major replied, "I have an idea." Ross sat watching the room empty with low murmurs and stood up walking off, "Lieutenant Paige," the major called.

"Yes, **_sir_**?" Ross asked sternly.

"Complete confidentiality," he re-iterated.

"Yes sir," he replied storming off.

He gave a heavy sigh walking through the quarters as the party had died down later on that night and walked to Ana's room standing by the doorway. He wasn't sure how he'd really keep the meeting to himself without expressing it to her subconsciously, because he knew he could read his feelings and thoughts without asking. Though, that night, as the tension rose and his chest weighed down with anger at the prospect of considering such a ridiculous plan, he couldn't help feel he had to be with her even if there was no hope of something happening.

He walked in and looked over at her as she sat up from her bed and stood up. "Hi," he said closing the door behind him drawing a slight sigh.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"Not bad," he replied forcing a smile, "The—basic shit… you know?" He scoffed amused, "You fell asleep?"

"A little," she admitted, "I'm pretty tired."

"Man," he scoffed looking down at her, "It's hard not to look at you."

"I want to trust you," she admitted, "I do. Because you're one of the only people here I like to be around. I want to be close to you."

"I'd never betray you," he explained, "I'd never hurt you."

"I know," she replied looking up at him.

"I don't have to go back," he muttered. She sighed looking over at him, "I have nowhere to be tonight," he declared. He walked over to her and knelt down kissing her passionately and lay back as they embraced. Becky awoke from her sleep that night looking out on to the darkness, "Casper?" she asked covering herself, "Casper?" She sighed sitting up and slipped on her shirt. "Fucking retard," she huffed, "Casper? Come on, you just got back and now you're gone again?" She grunted and stormed off. There was a thick silence that night as she walked up the steps looking around for him. She looked over the railing and walked up a flight.

She quickly rushed up the steps looking for him and stopped at the square looking out on to the darkness. She sighed closing the door and ran up three flights opening the door looking down a long hallway, "Casper?" she called. There was a glow emanating from a room at the end. She became curious and walked down the corridor slowly listening as she heard discussion raging from behind a door. She stood at the foot of the door and looked through a small window. She saw a large gathering of officers and guards sitting in attendance and saw the major talking to them pointing at a layout of the bases plans.

She leaned her head against the door struggling to hear, "I don't want these people to die," a soldier standing up said, "But I don't want to die, either."

"None of us do," a soldier replied, "But it comes down to self-preservation as the major said. I feel for these people, but I don't know any of them."

"We gathered a few of you would re-consider," the sergeant declared.

"What about Lieutenant Paige?" asked a soldier, "I trust him."

"Lieutenant Paige is not a leader," the major declared, "He is not a commander. You may respect the man, but do you trust the leader? Would you trust a man that would have you sacrifice yourself for people you don't even know?"

There was a long silence amidst the attendance of officers. It was obvious they were all re-considering their allegiance to him. And in the turn of a dime, they already made up their minds about him.

"When the shit hits the fan, your lieutenant will not lead you to safety, he will lead you to death all based on some idealistic pursuit," the major explained, "Is that a man you want with you in battle?"

"What about the survivors?" asked a soldier.

"Those who deserve to live will live... like us," the major declared, "Those who deserve to die, will die. We've done everything we can for them."

"We're soldiers," explained the sergeant, "We're survivors. We have served our country and we deserve to live beyond everyone else. We've made more sacrifices than anyone here. With god on our side, we'll re-build and beat this damn plague."

"When do we leave?" asked a soldier. It was a sharp question that signaled the sum of the feelings of their attendance. Becky gasped and quickly covered her mouth. But it was too late as a few of the officers turned their attention to the door. She saw them and turned running off. "Go check it out," The sergeant ordered, "And see fit they remain quiet." Becky ran through the halls whimpering as two soldiers emerged from the door with their guns drawn, "Stop where you are!" they yelled pointing their guns. She quickly turned running down the steps and stumbled along the railing as they chased after her. They quickly caught up with her cornering her in the stairwell as she held her hands up.

"Please, please!" she whimpered loudly, "Please don't kill me! I didn't hear anything! I didn't!"

"Hold your hands up!" a soldier ordered.

"Please," she cried, "I don't want to die! Please!"


	13. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Thirteen

**NEW YORK…**

"What do we got here?" Debra said turning over the duffle bag splattering the cans all over the table.

"Shh!" Clark whispered waving his hand, "Will you keep it down?"

"Sorry," she replied looking back.

"Keep Alex close to you, would you?" Clark asked.

"Don't worry," Debra assured him looking down at Alex who sat in front of her, "She's right here." Alex sat stone-faced looking down at the food.

"Okay," Debra said forcing a smile, "We have--" she began stacking the foot in a group at the edge of the table, "Bread," she smelled it, "About to go stale. Goody. We also have a lot of cans." She looked over them and shrugged, "And no can openers. Just our luck, right?" Alex looked up blankly, "Undead ghouls, scorching heat, closed in quarters, no escape," Debra explained, "And just for a laugh, we got cans of food with no can opener. God is a dick like that, eh?"

"How many are there?" asked Alex.

"About," she quickly ran her finger over them, "Thirty. Thirty cans. There are canned peas, canned pears, canned fruit, canned pineapples—yuck—canned apples, canned corn, and this," she placed the unlabeled can down in front of Alex with a smile.

"The mystery of the unknown," Debra replied with an exaggerated gleam mimicking Bela Lugosi, "No label on it. How funny is that?"

"They were probably rushing," Alex scoffed.

"So what do you think it is?" she asked, "It could be canned fruit, it could be a canned vegetable or--"

"—Dog food," Alex replied.

"Exactly," Debra chuckled, "Only one way to find out, really."

"I don't have a can opener," Alex replied under her breath.

"Me either," Debra replied, "I'm going to ask one of the guys if they have one handy." Alex stood up, "You're not going?" she asked.

"I'm only going up the roof," Debra assured her, "Look at the can and see if you can get a sign to what's in it, okay? I'll be back in no time."

"Okay," she replied sitting back down. Debra emerged on to the roof, "Okay, you bring a shit load of cans and no can opener?" she asked.

"What am I, stupid?" asked Rick. He tore a small can opener from his pocket and tossed it to her, "Good luck."

"You guys are like walking Swiss army knives," she joked waving it, "Adios."

"Think about it," Rick whispered as Debra disappeared in to the steps, "It's like slot machines."

"Well, when you lose slots, you lose money, not your life," Pete argued.

"When this shit happened, not everyone thought to take their cars," he explained, "Some people actually left theirs behind, which means full tanks of gas, and--"

"—No keys," Clark replied.

"Exactly," replied Pete.

"Come on," Rick insisted, "It will be so easy. Look down at the street. Each car is parallel to the other. They're in a whole row, there are at least thirty cars parked down there, one of them has to be a winner, so, all I do is sneak down in to the basement, crawl out the small vent there, and slide under the car with my hands tucked in, they won't know I'm there, and then when I'm in the clear I pull a door, and if that don't open, I slide across to the next one and the next, until--"

"—They hear you," Clark argued, "And then you're stuck under a car without any help thus rendering you helpless."

"You're not even going to give it a chance?" asked Rick.

"I'm not going down there," Pete replied, "That's suicide."

"Alright, I'll do it," Rick declared.

"You're not actually suggesting you risk your life playing a game of chance," Clark explained.

"It's worth it," Rick declared, "Don't you think? We either try that, or we rot here with those two girls down there."

"That is the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard," Pete insisted.

"It's worth a try," he insisted.

"No."

"Oh, come on Pete--!"

"--I said no," Peter replied sternly, "Understood?"

"Who died and made you the leader here?" asked Rick.

"It's not about who is leading," Clark replied, "I'm more inclined to listen to the person making the most sense here."

"Who the fuck is talking to you, old man?" Rick asked.

"Leave him alone, would you?" Pete replied.

"You saw me out there, man," Rick explained, "I was with you every single second of the day, I was running, I was jumping, I saved your ass seven times over, and I think you should trust me more."

"That's why you're not doing it," Peter explained, "You're good out there. And we need you, got it?"

"The only thing I got is that you're an anal prick who is trying to take control," he replied. "Where is this coming from?" asked Peter, "Yesterday you were my friend and now you're willing to piss on me?"

"Things change, man," he replied, "I don't want to die here. And if it means selling you out, then I will."

"And what?" he asked, "You're going to kill me?"

"I don't kill people," Rick replied, "I kill those things. But keeping us up here is murder, and you're the murderer."

"Don't manipulate him like that," Clark said sternly.

"Last time I'm going to tell you, shut up," he warned, "Me and Peter got the guns and the ability, all you been doing is sitting around and talking. Talking ain't going to save anyone up here. As far as I can tell, I'm the only one willing to save us, while you're all giving in to this."

"If I was willing to give in," Clark explained, "I'd had killed myself and those girls a long time ago. I want to live, and I want to escape, but risking your life on a ridiculous plan like that is pointless. When you die, then what?"

"If I die," Rick corrected him.

"**_When_**," Clark insisted, "That's a statement defining what **_will_** happen to you. There are no if's anymore. You will die out there."

"I'm willing to put my life on the line here," Rick argued angrily, "What are you bleeding hearts so worried about?"

"What if they find out where you crawled out from?" asked Clark, "They'll find us, and then you'll be dead and our lives will be on the line."

"They won't find **_me_**," Rick replied.

"You're not going anywhere," Peter declared, "We'll figure something out, but you're not doing it. You don't even have a straight head right now, don't you see that? This place is making us crazy."

"It's making me think clearer," Rick replied, "A lot clearer than you, right now."

"I said no," Peter replied, "And that's final." He walked off storming down the steps. Rick stood sitting with a nod and looked over at Clark with a cringe, "Don't you have anything to say?" he asked.

"I'm just an old man," Clark shrugged with a scoff, "I'm not making sense like you are, right now." He walked off down after Peter. Rick sat on the floor thinking over their discussion and sat up looking over the ledge. He wasn't going to take Peter's word lying down and he was intent on going through with his plan, with or without them.

**FLORIDA…**

Becky gave a loud whimper shivering in fright as they lowered their guns, "Why aren't you in your floor with everyone else?" asked a soldier.

"I—I was with someone, I was looking for them, and I ended up here," she explained in tears, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I didn't know--"

"—Shut up!" the soldier ordered, "Put your hands down."

"I don't have a weapon," she quivered.

"Put them down," he ordered. She shakily lowered her hands and gave a frightened whimper as they approached her.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, "I beg you--"

"—You committed a crime, ma'am," the soldier said holstering his gun, "Do you know that?"

"I'm sorry," she whimpered as tears poured from her face.

"Come on," he said grabbing her by the arm.

"Where are we going?" she asked shaking in fright.

"The barracks," he explained.

"No--!" She said struggling as they grabbed her.

"Calm down," they urged.

"Please don't kill me," she pleaded.

"Don't worry, darling," he replied, "We'll take care of you." They walked down the seven flights of steps and quickly stepped in to the empty barracks with four others behind them following. He quickly opened the door to the cell, "I don't want to go in there," she whimpered.

"You're under arrest for perjury," the soldier declared, "You committed an offense, ma'am, get in."

"I won't tell anyone," she insisted, "I won't. I swear, I swear! No one will believe me anyway."

"Get in the fucking cell," he demanded.

"I'm claustrophobic!" she insisted in tears, "I don't want to go in there!"

"Get in or we'll make you," threatened a soldier. She quivered hugging herself and walked in barefoot in to the cold dark cell. She looked around in fright as the squeaky door slammed shut. She sat in the corner of the floor shaking as they whispered to one another. "What are you going to—to do with me?" she asked wiping her tears.

"We're not going to hurt you," the sergeant declared standing by the door, "But we need to know how much of it you heard."

"I don't want to be here," she pleaded, "I'm scared of the dark."

"Then you have to tell me," the general insisted.

"Not a lot," she replied.

"You're lying," he replied quickly.

"I didn't," she whimpered shaking, "I know Casper. Casper! Call Casper, he'll tell you."

"Casper is on watch tower duty, besides he couldn't help now if he tried," he insisted, "Now I want you to tell me what you heard. I can't help you if you're not honest. What did you hear?"

"About you leaving," she explained whimpering, "And… and something about those things." He nodded and gave a sigh.

"I can't help you," he replied.

"I was telling the truth," she admitted, "I was!"

"That's why," he sighed. He turned and walked off as her eyes grew wide with fright. "Just make it short," the major whispered to four soldiers standing by, "She won't be missed in the crowds."

"Yes, sir," they replied.

"And make sure that this doesn't leak again," the major demanded, "We'll have pandemonium if this gets out." He lowered his head and walked off as the soldiers emerged from the darkness. She quickly stood up cowering in the corner and saw them walk in slowly, "No, no," she pleaded, "No, no! I was telling the truth!" She attempted to run away as they grabbed her and struggled. "No, please! Please! I was telling the truth! Someone, please! Ross! Ross! Don't do this, no!" Her screams echoed through the empty barracks that night as the soldiers all regrouped in the conference room.

They lay in bed that night under the covers; Ross and Ana lay silently facing one another as he caressed her face, "You're going to tell me what was bothering you before?" Ana asked.

"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow," he replied.

"Okay," she replied kissing him.

"And we're going to talk about **_this_**," he held her holster up, "as well."

"I promise," she chuckled.

"I wish I'd known you before this happened," Ross declared.

"We know each other **_now_**," she assured him, "That's good enough."

"Not for me," he replied.

"Well, I was married at that time," she replied, "I kind of still am."

"He was such a lucky bastard," he declared.

"You didn't have anyone back there?" she asked.

"No one I can remember," he replied, "I was bad at relationships."

"You're doing pretty good right now," she replied.

That morning at the café, Ana sat down to breakfast and began curiously looking around as Ross sat across from her.

"Who are you looking for?" he asked.

"Becky," she replied, "She always sits near me."

"She had a long night," Ross scoffed, "I bet Casper wore her out."

"That makes sense, I guess," she smiled sipping her coffee, "She always told me she never missed breakfast."

"Ah," Ross groaned, "She and Casper probably pulled an all-nighter or something. They love to fuck like dogs."

"Speak of the devil," Ana said stone-faced as Casper walked in to the café.

"Okay?" Ross said in surprise, "Now I'm confused."

"Casper," Ana called as he walked over to her, "Have you seen Becky?"

"No," he shrugged, "I thought she was with **_you_**."

"When did you last see her?" asked Ross.

"Around four in the morning last night," he replied, "I checked her room, too. I was off on watchtower duty last night and I left. She was fast asleep when I left her there. That girl is a damn animal."

"Ah," Ross said furrowing his brows.

"I'm sure she's okay," Casper replied, "She can't get in trouble around here. She'd better not."

"She's probably in the square or something," Ana replied.

"I'll see you, I have some work to do," he declared. He nodded and walked off and looked back as he saw Ana and Ross join hands. He gave a saddened sigh rushing off. "Which one are we reading tonight?" Gary asked sitting beside Ana.

"This one," she replied pointing to a book.

"What's this?" Ross asked.

"I read him something before he goes to bed every now and then," she explained, "And it's kind of become a habit, now."

"You have a crush on her, don't you?" Ross asked with a smirk. He shrugged embarrassed, "I can't blame you," he chuckled, "Mind if I listen in tonight?"

"Okay," he nodded.

"Thank you," he replied with a wink, "We'll have fun."

"What are you thinking?" asked the sergeant.

"Not much," replied the major, "I'm thinking we begin evacuation procedures as quickly as possible. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a plan, sir," replied the sergeant, "Sounds like a plan. The sooner, the better."

"Let's begin then, shall we?" asked the major.

"Okay," Ross said holding up her holster, "Now would you care to explain this to me?" She scoffed sitting at the edge of her bed, "It was a gift," she declared.

"A gift?" he asked with a half smile, "Who gives guns as gifts?"

"The NRA?" she replied.

"Funny," Ross scoffed.

"Casper gave it to me," Ana confessed.

"Casper?" he asked.

"It was a Christmas present," she explained, "He gave it to me to help me feel comfortable."

"Oh," Ross said in a long groan, "I see." He sat down beside her, "That's very convenient of him."

"Now you," she replied.

"Alright," he groaned laying back, "I was born in New Jersey in 19--"

"—No!" she replied, "About what was bothering you, dummy."

"Okay," he scoffed, "You don't want to know about Jersey?"

"Soon," she replied laying her head on his chest, "But for now, I want to know what's been bothering you."

There was a long silence in the room; she looked up at him, "Ross?"

"They're getting smarter," he admitted.

"What?" she asked looking over to him alarmed, "What do you mean smarter?"

"**_Smarter_**, smarter," he explained, "Like they're thinking."

"How is that possible?" she asked afraid.

"I don't know," Ross replied, "Probably one of god's new dirty tricks, if you ask me. I just--" He sighed, "I saw it,' he explained, "I mean I saw those god damn things learning and planning."

"Don't say that," she said sitting back up.

"I'm being honest with you here," he explained.

"I know," she replied wiping tears from her eyes.

"Don't worry," he assured her, "They won't get through."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"I don't," he replied, "But… I won't let them get to you."

"I'm so scared."

"Me too," he replied rubbing her arm, "But it's true. They were standing against the electric fence and one of them just got gutsy and climbed on. We all thought it was just being brainless, but it turns out he was really showing the others that it was harmful. And then… they just stood there without even banging at the damn thing."

"My god," she muttered.

"Do me a favor," he said.

"What?"

"Keep your gun with you," he warned.

"What?" she asked, "Why?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked. She nodded, "Good," he replied, "Just keep it with you at all times. Alright? Promise me."

"I promise," she replied kissing him.

**NEW YORK…**

The rest of the day had gone off like any of the other normal days. Debra and Alex had discovered the can and everyone went about their business. Rick didn't talk to Peter or Clark for the rest of the day and set himself a makeshift cot in another reading room at the far end of the hall. He could hear them murmuring to each other in the distance and lay back falling asleep. The night had stumbled in on the group and everyone had fallen asleep beside each other, with the blankets splattered around them. The cold hard floor contradicted the warmth of the blankets, but it was still a comfortable setting. They'd all fallen fast asleep around each other, but they weren't as comfortable as others.

In the room down the hall, Rick had lay in his cot still awake, looking up at the ceiling and sat up looking down the hall. He rushed over to the main room and pocketed his firearm along with a clip and looked back for any sign of them. He tip-toed over to their room and looked them over behind the window. They were all asleep, and all perfectly unaware of his presence. They were so easy for the picking, but he couldn't kill them after all they'd been through. But he'd miss them. Peter and Clark, not so much, but the girls were angels, and he loved them for it. He gave a smirk and rushed off to the roof door and closed it behind him.

He dashed up the steps and looked out on to the night sky. He gave a relieved sigh and looked over the edge. He wasn't sure where he'd start first, but he knew he could make it down and out without anyone ever missing him. The streets were noticeably empty that night. They'd made good use of their shelter, and the corpses weren't aware of their residence, so they'd all but moved on. It was almost as if without words, they deemed the place abandoned in unison. He grabbed on to a storm vent and swung his leg over looking over at the open roof door. He clinched his leg on to the side of the rail and then the other and grabbed a hold of it. It was now or never for him, and he'd decided to take his leap for escape. He'd be long gone before they awoke and he knew Peter would never hear the end of it from them.


	14. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Fourteen

He slid down the railing quickly and landed on his feet bracing himself and looked around the area. It was very quiet, and calm, and the coast was clear, but in the city you could never be sure when the coast was clear. They went from single hunters to packs of hunters, not five or six, but packs of twenty to forty. He stuck his head out of the corner and spotted one with its back turned staggering ahead in such a speed that could enable him to literally run circles around him before it latched on to him, but where one saw, others would follow. It was like a scent they shared. He decided not to run around and ran quickly sliding along the sidewalk and under the car. He lay on his back, looped his arm around the under pipes of the car and pulled himself up enough to keep him out of sight.

His quick dash caused the corpse to turn and look back. Luckily it didn't spot him. It turned ahead and continued staggering in an almost sleepy haze making its way down the corner. He dropped slightly and slid out. He knelt down and pulled the door handle with no luck. He quickly slid under again, waited a second and then crawled underneath the other car in front of him. He looked around seeing no feet on either sides of the street and slid his body out, pulled the door handle and slid to the next. Further and further he went down the side street, and further there was no luck. He was a good ways away from the library, and the campus was closed in enough that not too many of the corpses could surround the area.

He'd gone through car, after car, after car with no luck. He'd all but began to lose any hope he had. And pulled himself up as one of them wandered past him with a gurgle. He couldn't see the library anymore since its view had been obstructed by the rows of cars, and released himself lying down in silence. The corpse had drifted down far enough not to hear him. He slid out from underneath, pulled the door handle and presto. He gave a sigh of relief and opened the door. He went to reach for the door knob, but the sweat from his hands caused it to slip from his grip and the door knob clapped back with a loud thump. He stopped and gave a gasp looking over as the corpse turned looking over at him with an immense awareness.

"Fuck," he muttered. The corpse's face had been torn off from the side, he was once a large obese man, and completely naked, with only his socks still on. He was shivering looking over to him and opened his mouth with a hunger and stumbled to him. From his hand dangled a shotgun that he'd obviously not been able to use, or had used but failed. He didn't see anyone else around and fumbled for the door knob finally opening the door. He turned and within a split second the monster's arm raised and off went the gun.

The boom echoed for miles. They awoke with a gasp, and instantly Peter jumped up from the floor rushing down the hall, "What happened?" asked Alex, "What happened?"

"Nothing, my dear," Clark said walking off, "Go back to sleep, alright?"

"It's okay," Debra assured her laying beside her, "Its okay. Go back to sleep." Peter ran up the steps and looked over the ledge anxiously, "What's going on?" asked Clark. "He did it," Peter muttered, "That motherfucker did it."

"Did what?" he asked.

"He snuck out and went with the plan," Peter said angrily slapping the ledge.

"Where is he?" asked Clark.

"Down there," he pointed, "Somewhere." He leaned over as far as he could and gasped. He saw Rick sliding down the car door shivering. The corpse had accidentally shot the gun in to his chest, and the blood had splattered everywhere, "Fuck!" he said looking down at his wounds holding it as the blood pour, "Fuck!" he blurted, the blood seeping from his mouth. The corpse staggered over to him with the shotgun still in tow. He forced himself up and jumped in to the car slamming the door behind him. The window had been shattered from the shot, and he knew it had gone straight through his lungs.

The corpse looked in to the car and began tapping at the window with the gun meekly groaning. From every corner, more of them appeared catching on to the scent of heavy blood flow. "Fuck," Rick whimpered spitting blood on the dashboard. He wheezed and cracked open the lid from below fumbling for the wires. "Shit!" Peter replied looking at a large red car which they began gathering around.

"What's happened?" Clark asked anxiously.

"They found him," he explained, "God damn it. God damn it!" He gave a quiver and stomped on the floor. "He's dead," Clark declared saddened, "My god."

"Too cocky," Peter said pacing in circles, "I knew he was too damn cocky."

"We can't get to him," Clark said.

"I know that, Clark," Peter replied.

"I'm sorry, I-I," Clark stood dumbfounded and rubbed his head looking for words, "My god. God have mercy." Rick coughed up more blood than he was dripping from his open chest wound and fumbled with futile efforts at the wires struggling to light the engine up. The blood covering his finger kept the spark from starting, and already they'd surrounded the car from front, back, and top. They smelled fresh blood and they were getting in. One female corpse crawled on to the hood and began licking the windshield with hunger. Rick scoffed wiping his mouth and gave her the finger defiantly.

He tried to fumble for the wires again, but it was no use. The wires were also now covered with blood and he saw to do nothing but sit there and look around him. They were fiending to get to him, but he didn't want to let them. "God damn it," Peter muttered sitting on the floor. "There's no use," Clark declared saddened. He leaned over looking at the car. The exterior had all but been covered by the dead whom were desperately trying to break in to get him.

"Peter… he--"

"—I know," Peter replied, "He's dead."

"Lord help him," Clark sighed lowering his head, "We should go back down stairs."

"What do we tell the girls?" he asked.

"Nothing," replied Clark, "We just tell them—he went out to look for food."

"Okay," Peter whispered. Clark put his hand on his shoulder near tears, "Give me a few minutes," Peter said looking away. Clark walked down the steps and through the halls finally entering the room. Alex looked up at him, "What was that?"

"Nothing," he replied, "Just one of those monsters got in to a garbage can."

"That was loud," she replied lying down and turning. Clark lay beside them and looked over at Debra who gave a frown, "What happened?"

"It's Rick," he whispered, "He's dead." She gave a blank frown, nodded, and lay her head down along her pillow. No use in weeping or making a scene, he was already gone.

**FLORIDA…**

Ross lay side by side with Ana in bed that afternoon thinking over his revelation and talking about their concerns as he sat up and began dressing. After hours of discussion, he'd given in.

"I'm starving," he explained, "Do you want something?"

"A coffee will be just fine," she replied.

"Coming right up," he replied slipping on his shirt, "It's lunch time, you know?"

"Yeah, I'm not that hungry," she replied slipping under the sheets.

"Okay," he sighed, "But stay there."

"Alright," she scoffed.

"**_Right there_**," he emphasized, "Naked, under the sheets."

"Will you go!" she chuckled, throwing a pillow at him. He walked off with a laugh and rushed up the steps. He brushed past two officers heading up the steps beside him and gave a curious furrow of the brow entering in to the café. He walked past the crowds heading to the lunch line. He grabbed an apple from the shelf and looked around with the unshakable curiosity with furrowed brows as he pour coffee in to a cup.

"Hey, Danny," Ross whispered, "Let me ask you something."

"Yes, sir?"

"Where are the officers that guard the doors?" he asked.

"I don't know," he replied furrowing his brows leaning over the counter, "I didn't notice they'd left. Why?"

"I don't know," he replied curiously, "I—maybe it's nothing, but they know better than to abandon their posts."

"Maybe there's a meeting or something," he replied.

"Yeah," he replied uncertain, "Okay. Thanks." He nodded and walked off as he bit in to the apple and brushed past two other officers. He drew extra attention as they rushed off with guns in tow. He stopped at the stairwell and looked down as two soldiers talked among themselves, an older man and a young officer with their rifles over their shoulders. He dropped the coffee and ran down after them as they approached a doorway.

"Hey!" He said bursting through the door.

"Sir?" the young soldier asked stammering.

"Why are you headed off post?" he asked, "I didn't relieve you." The young soldier looked over at his partner silently.

"We were called away, sir," the older soldier replied.

"You're never supposed to go off post," he insisted, "Why are you going off?" There was a long silence between them, "I asked you a question, soldier," he said sternly. They looked over at one another silently. The older soldier looked him over and they attempted to draw their gun as Ross quickly stumbled for his gun drawing and shot within a split second. The blast rang out in the steps as the older soldier fell to the floor with a loud thump. Ross panted with his gun drawn, his arm bleeding as he looked over at the young soldier who stood still as stone looking on in shock.

"Tell me," Ross said with a wince holding his arm.

"Sir, I--"

"—Tell me," he demanded, "Or I swear to god I'll shoot you, too."

"They ordered us to line up on the roof," he blurted.

"To leave?" he asked. The soldier stumbled silently, "To leave!" he yelled.

"Yes, sir," he replied, "I'm just following orders."

"Was it your orders to shoot whoever asked questions?" Ross asked.

"No, sir."

"You're lying," he replied.

"It was our orders to shoot you on sight," he explained. Ross sigh keeping his gun pointed. "How long do we have?" asked Ross.

"Fifty minutes," he replied raising his hands up, "And then they're letting them in." Ross gave a gasp with wide horrified eyes, "**_Them_**?" he asked, "You mean, they're turning those things loose?"

"Y-Yes sir," he replied.

"My god," Ross whispered in shock, "My god."

"I have to go, sir," he pleaded, "Please. I don't want to die here." Ross shot him as the young soldier fell against the wall and slowly slid on to the floor. He mumbled attempting to talk and went limp, dropping to the floor. Ross stood over him and shot his head and grabbed at their artillery. He knew he was pressed for time, and the attempt at murder was a surefire indicator that they meant business. "God damn them," he replied running down the steps.

**NEW YORK…**

Peter leaned over looking at the corpses rumbling the car and growling. He paced around anxiously and descended back down in to the library.

"What did you see?" asked Clark.

"They were starting to break in," he replied with a slight tear in his eyes, "He's gone." The next morning each of them awoke to the silence. Peter didn't sleep the rest of the night, thinking about what was happening to Rick at that very moment. They lay safely, as he was being torn apart.

"What time is it?" asked Debra.

"About nine am," Peter replied looking at his watch.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked standing up and walking off. He sat up and followed her out the office. "What happened last night?" she asked.

"Long story short, Rick got gutsy, went for a plan we decided not to go with," he explained bluntly, "And it failed. He's dead." She dropped on to the seat in disappointment and looked up at him, "There's no way to get to him?" she asked.

"No," he replied sitting across from her, "He's dead."

"I'm sorry," she said patting his hand, "I know you were friends."

"I don't know what to do," he replied, "I tried so hard to reason with him."

"We'll take care of you," she assured him, "I promise."

"Thanks," he said. The group of corpses had drifted away from the car, unable to get in to Rick.

One remained patting at the top of the car and walked off as a long silence resonated through the streets. There was a click from the passenger door side and Rick opened the door slightly. It lingered for a second and swung open as he gave a groan, crawling from the seats on and falling to the floor. He lay on his back looking up at the corpse who walked past him. He stood up and leaned back with a loud gurgle and looked around covered completely in his own blood, his mouth was agape, drool and blood still pouring from its crevice as he scoped the area with his blank white eyes. He'd escaped, just as he planned, but not how he wanted.

It'd taken all but seven hours for him to bleed to death slowly and painfully from the massive wound to the chest from a twitchy corpse with his hand on the trigger. He bled all over himself, his lungs had been damaged beyond repair, and he'd accepted his fate sitting in that car, drifting off to the sounds of the growls and thunderous rumble of the corpses attempting to get to him. It was an unexpected turn of events for his surefire plan, but he'd failed, and come back. His arms swung as he staggered back and forth groaning low under his breath shambling past the walking dead. He reacted to them looking around in a slight panic and fell to the floor scraping his fingers along the ground. He stood on his knees and forced himself up silently and turned very slowly to look ahead. He raised his head and saw the roof to the library. He knew they'd be there.

**FLORIDA…**

Ross burst in to the door of the café and ran up to the counter, "Danny," he urged.

"Yes, sir?"

"Get everyone out of this café now," he ordered.

"Another safety drill? That's eight this month," he asked, "These people need to eat, you know."

"This is not a drill," Ross urged, "Get them out now." He ran off. Danny furrowed his brows, "Alright, keep moving on the line it's just another safety drill." He dropped the apple behind him and ran down the steps jumping down along the floors and burst through the square storming in to his room. He fell to his knees and yanked the duffle bag from his bed and wrapped it around his shoulder. He ran across the halls with his gun drawn and quickly burst through Ana's room. She sat up quickly furrowing her brows in alarm, "What happened? Where were you?" she asked.

"Get dressed as fast you can," he ordered. He didn't need to tell her twice as she jumped from the bed and began putting on her clothing. Ross knelt down and began loading his weapons. She'd already dressed and began tying her boots. "Tell me what's going on," she pleaded.

"A couple of days ago, the officers held a meeting with every soldier on the base," he explained anxiously, "They told us that they were running low on resources, food, artillery, and abandonment was a possible option in curing that problem. They were planning on abandoning the survivors and re-starting somewhere else."

"What!" she asked alarmed.

"But, that's not the best part," he replied, "In precisely forty-three minutes, they're going to release those things in here." Ana gasped in horror standing still as stone as Ross continued packing the weapons. "Ross," she quivered looking at his gun shot wound, "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," he replied, "One of the officers took a shot at me."

"They tried to kill you?" she asked inspecting the bleeding wound.

"We have little time, Ana," he urged, "Do you still have your pistol?"

"Right here," she replied quickly strapping it on.

"You'd better be as good with that as you say," he warned.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because we're going to have to fight our way out of this place," He declared, "And we're in for one hell of a fucking fight. I've been collecting this shit for six months. I've been sneaking in and out of the artillery room, pocketing clips, and fire arms." He stood up with pistols drawn and clips along a belt as he handed her two semi-automatics. "It's locked and loaded," he explained, "When you run out, drop it, and use the other one, when you're empty with that, drop it, and grab the pistol from your holster, got it?"

"Yes," she mumbled.

"Ana, snap out of it!" he yelled shaking her as she looked up at him, "It's time to be the survivor I picked up on the beach. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied nodding.

"I need you," he pleaded, "I really need you right now."

"Okay, okay," she mumbled.

"Come on." They ran towards the door past the people of the square who didn't draw attention to their presence. Ana looked over all of them saddened as they went about their business. "What about them?" she asked. Ross ran to the wall, smashed the small window and pulled down a lever that opened up two doors on the sidewalls. "Everyone, can I have your attention!" he screamed, "I want you all to evacuate this place this immediately, it's an emergency! This is not a drill!"

They all began to murmur confused as Ana raised her gun and shot in the air drawing screams, "Evacuate now or you will die!" he screamed. Slowly the survivors began making their way to the doors as Ross looked on confused, "What the hell are they doing?" he asked, "They're taking their time!"

"Casper!" Ana called, as he walked by them confused.

"What the fuck are you two doing, Ross?" Casper asked alarmed.

"They're going through with the plan," Ross replied.

"What—they are?" he asked alarmed.

"Yes, in forty minutes those things are coming down here," Ross explained.

"Come on," Casper said running for the steps.

"What about them?" asked Ana, "I don't see Gary anywhere."

"They'll be fine," he replied, "We have to go and find out what the fuck is going on here!" They ran up the steps past the two dead soldiers laid out on the floor and burst through the door running past the medical ward as the doctors watched tending to the patients. "All officers on this frequency," the general muttered in to a radio, "Abandon your posts ASAP and proceed to the roof where we will begin take off, repeat abandon your posts." In the watchtower, three soldiers turned holding their rifles and walked off as the walking dead stood at the gates groaning.

In the café, the medical ward, the square where the survivors gathered to slowly evacuate, the artillery room, the stock rooms and every other place were closing down. Though others went on with their work, the select few whom agreed to make a break for their own safety slowly swarmed up to the roof. The general stood at the hall of the conference room pacing back and forth awaiting the launch time as the soldiers recruited began packing and loading up. He stopped in his tracks as the three emerged from the corner, Ross leading ahead with a vicious grimace as the general froze in surprised.

"Lieutenant Paige," he muttered attempting to play off his surprise.

"General," Ross muttered quickly drawing his gun.

"I wouldn't do that," he warned, "We're so close to exit and we wouldn't want a war right here in the middle of the hallway."

"You're one sick bastard," Ross declared, "Leaving these people to die. I ought to blow your fucking brains out on this floor and leave you here to be eaten alive."

"Let's talk in the conference room," the general offered.

"I don't trust him," Ana replied.

"Don't worry," Ross assured her, "Just keep your guns drawn."

"You sure this is a good idea?" asked Casper.

"We have no other choice," replied Ross, "I want to get down to the bottom of this."

They entered in to the large office where a small group of armed soldiers looked up in a sense of awe as they saw Ross standing in the flesh.

"I thought you were--"

"—Dead?" Ross asked, "Call me arrogant, but I catch on quick."

"We wanted you to come along," the major explained.

"I'm not leaving these people here to die," Ross declared.

"It's not your choice in the matter, anymore," the major replied.

"Is it?" Ross asked. Ana drew her gun at the general as all the soldiers immediately drew their weapons.

"Put the gun down, ma'am," a soldier warned.

"You first," she replied.

"Put the gun down!" they warned.

"I'm not afraid to die," she declared, "I can't say the same for him."

"We're pressed for time here," Ross explained, "You have to stop this."

"I'm not stopping anything," the general replied, "And even if I wanted to, it's much too late for any of that. We're already beginning to take off. Now, ma'am I appreciate your pious efforts to your friends here, but you're deep in shit if you don't put the gun down. You have no idea what you're doing, here."

"Going to leave us to die," Ana muttered, "Like you did at the mall. It's not that hard to understand, general."

"Put the gun down," he warned. There was a click of the gun beside her as Casper drew his gun to Ross' head. Ross gasped lowering his gun as Casper pressed the barrel against his temple, "Do it, Ana," Casper warned.

"Casper?" Ana asked confused, "What the hell are you doing?"

Ross huffed angrily and hung his head, "I fucking knew it."


	15. Eve of Destruction: Chapter Fifteen

"Put the gun down," Casper warned, "Or I'll happily blow his brains out."

"No," she insisted.

"Don't be stupid, Ana. I will shoot," Casper assured her, "Trust me. You have to the count of five--" Ana sighed and dropped her gun to the floor. Ross dropped his raising his hand.

"You fucking coward," Ross muttered.

"I always told you I was never cut out for this heroic bullshit, lieutenant," Casper explained, "You know that."

"You're going to abandon these people here like a coward? Is that it?" asked Ross. "You son of a bitch!" Ana exclaimed.

"How can you betray us like this?" Ross declared.

"It's called self preservation. I followed orders," replied Casper, "Something you should have done a long time ago."

"You can't leave these people to the lions, Casper!" Ross screamed.

"There is no choice, Lieutenant," The major replied as he stepped forward, "We are running low on supplies, our sources are gone, and as we speak there are more of those things gathering outside the base. It's only a matter of time before they break through! What do you expect!"

"You save them," replied Ana.

"That's right, Major," replied Ross, "Even after the world is over it's still about politics and elitism, isn't it? I saw millions of people die and I won't let anymore go."

"I offered you everything," General Aldo replied, "I offered you to partner with us, I promoted you the rank of lieutenant, I asked for your help and you wouldn't give it to us. You would have been given so much had you followed orders, but you had to be the hero, didn't you?" The Major walked off in to the halls being escorted by his entourage as they began getting anxious.

"I'm not a puppet like some people," Ross replied looking over at Casper, "I'm not going to let you do this!"

"What are you going to do, then?" asked the General, "Hmm?" Ross drew his gun and pointed it towards the General's head as the soldiers instantly drew to attention pointing their rifles at them as Ana watched in anger.

"Put your gun down, Ross," Casper ordered sternly.

"Fuck you!" screamed Ross.

"You heard him, don't be stupid, lieutenant," replied the General.

"And I said fuck you," replied Ross, "What's going to happen when the military's supplies run out, General?"

"That won't happen," replied the General.

"What's going to happen, Casper?" asked Ana as Casper pointed his gun towards them, "What's going to happen when the supplies run out?"

"Don't listen to them, private," warned the General.

"First they abandon civilians, and save the army, then they save the high officers and abandon their soldiers," she explained, "Don't do it, Casper. You're a smart guy, you're better than this, and you know it. I know it."

"Don't listen to their semantics, officer," the general declared with a smug smile, "They don't know what they're talking about."

"Do they?" asked Casper pondering, "What's going to happen when the supplies run out for the officers, General?"

"That won't happen," the General insisted.

"I don't plan on dying here, or anywhere else," Casper explained.

"God you really are brainless," the General declared. Suddenly he pointed his gun at him as they all looked on in surprise. The General turned looking down the barrel of his gun, the soldiers instantly pointed their rifles at them, "Put the gun down, Rodriguez," the General ordered.

"No, I mean, I think she has a point," Casper explained, "This is going to happen, and there's no way I'm being fed to those things to save your ass."

"Then what, now? Are you going to run?" asked the General.

"As fast as we can," replied Ana.

"Fine," he replied. He lifted his radio and buzzed the officers, "Officers, abandon your posts and open the gates." They all gazed at him in shock as he gave a smile. He looked at his watch and shrugged with furrowed brows, "Let's see how far you get without our help. You have fifteen minutes." Casper decked him violently knocking him to the ground as they staggered back, Casper pointing his gun as they rushed off.

"What do we do?" asked Ross.

"We get the fuck out of here, as fast as possible," replied Casper.

"What about the survivors, we can't leave them here," argued Ana.

"They're evacuating," Casper explained, "For now we have to worry about ourselves. There's an escape hatch downstairs where we can leave underground," explained Casper, "We have to get the fuck out of here, and now, come on!" They rushed off as Ross ran towards the doorway.

"What are you doing?" asked Ana.

"Let's see how **_they_** feel being fed to the lions," replied Ross. He smashed his gun against the switch as the doors slid close, locking them. The soldiers screamed slamming against the door and began shooting into the glass without any success. Ross saluted the General as he watched in horror and ran off.

The officers tore off their masks and began slamming their guns into the glass without a lot of success. The slams of the glass echoed throughout the hall.

"Hurry this up, hurry it up!" the General screamed as he hit the dials frantically.

"We're stuck!" an officer replied.

"In fifteen minutes this place is going to be swarming with those monsters, we have to get out of here!" the General screamed. There was a loud humming that lowered down in to silence as a young soldier in the watch tower gave a horrific gasp watching as the walking dead grasped on to the gates without any effect to them and became very violent grappling the chain link fences and quickly began tearing it down.

"The electricity!" the soldier howled, "The electricity, put it back up!"

"What happened?" asked an officer.

"They're breaking through, put it back up!" he screamed frantically. A shot rang out as he went limp and dropped to the floor. Two officers in the tower picked him up and threw him over the edge as the thump echoed throughout the ground. They holstered their guns and prepared to leave. The monsters crashed down the gates quickly swarming by the hundreds to the large metallic entrance. Up above in the dark first floor where the soldiers held up, the officers put down their guns, one by one, each of the officers holstered their rifles and turned heading towards the doors and began walking along the rafters as the thunderous banging from the millions of the rotting undead corpses outside the thick steel doors rose like a tidal wave.

**NEW YORK…**

"Where's Rick?" asked Alex.

"Eat your corn," Debra replied sternly.

"I don't like corn," she cringed leaning back.

"Try the peaches," Debra offered, "You have nothing against these right?"

"No," she scoffed grabbing the can.

"Then what?" asked Clark. He and Peter stood at the foot of the steps of the roof talking incessantly, "What do we do, now?"

"We'll keep trying the radio--"

"—Trying the radio?" asked Clark, "That won't work."

"—Well, we have to keep working on it. There must be someone out there still alive, a military base, a shop, a bunker, something," Peter explained, "We can't be the only ones alive on this rock. And if that fails beyond a shadow of a doubt, we'll make a break for it out those doors."

"That's insane," Clark declared.

"We have no choice," Peter replied.

"We should have done this in the first place," Clark argued.

"I know."

"We could have escaped before."

"I know!" Peter replied. He looked over at the girls and lowered his voice, "I'm not letting myself off easy, you know. Rick was my friend, and it's hurting me that he's dead. We have to leave, even if it means running like hell."

"And where will we go?" asked Clark.

"I don't know," replied Peter.

"You're going to get us in the same situation as Rick," Clark argued.

"Will you work with me here?" he begged, "I'm trying my ass off."

"I've lost my patience," Clark replied, "I have. We're done talking." He brushed him off and stormed off back to the girl's sides. Peter huffed and plopped down on to the bottom of the steps.

**FLORIDA…**

The officers slowly walked along the ramps and closed the large wooden gates standing among the dark entrances waiting for word from the major. With one gesture, the commanding officer of the group lifted his hand opening the case and pushed a large red button that lifted a loud slamming noise. Instantly the large gears began spinning, the chains squeaking as the old doors slowly opened. The shadows gathered at the doorstep quickly and like water from a broken dam, the doors slid fully open and they began emerging into the entrance. The dead, the rotten, and the freshly re-animated poured in by the groups. Men, women, and children, all mangled beyond belief, their eyes glazed over began running after the soldiers who stood behind the gates watching as they crept in from every corridor and crevice. It was all over now, and the invasion began, as the people within the base were never the wiser.

"Sir," the officer said as the zombies slammed against the gates reaching for them, "It's begun. Prepare the choppers."

"Stop!" the General screamed from the radio.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Do not let them in!" the General ordered frantically, "We're stuck in the office!"

"The-there's nothing we can do, General Aldo," the officer explained, "As we speak, they're trying to break through the gates, they're trying to get in through the staircase."

"Fight them off!" the major screamed, "Until we find a way out."

"That's a negative," the officer replied, "We only have about twenty men, and there are at least a hundred of them, by my count. They're coming from everywhere." They packed through the ramp by the dozens, cramming up against the wooden gates as the soldiers watched in increasing nervousness, drawing their guns and murmuring among each other.

"How sturdy are these things?" asked a nervous officer.

"These are protected from breaking, but they're coming in so fast," he replied in horror, "We have to leave before they break through." The three ran across the hallways fleeing through the crowds of people in a panic as the onlookers walked by watching in curiosity. "What do we do?" asked Ana, "Shouldn't we go up to the helicopters?"

"You kidding me?" asked Ross, "We go there and they'll shoot us on sight."

"We have to go down," replied Casper as he looked at the map on the wall, "It's the only way out of here."

"First we should make a stop," replied Ross.

"Artillery," replied Casper.

"What makes you think it hasn't already been cleaned out?" asked Ana.

"It's worth a try," replied Casper.

"Where are the vehicles?" asked Ana.

"All the way at the west end," explained Ross, "We'll go from the artillery through the corridors, and then along the barracks and then it gets rocky from there."

They rushed through the hallways as Buzz and the others stood talking; Ana could barely keep the presence of the infected out of her mind as they rushed to gather some survivors and free them from the clutches of the looming undead. "Get out here!" Ross urged wielding his gun, "You're not safe! Everybody evacuate through the exits! This is not a drill!" They all made a mad rush to the doors with frenzy as Ross rushed up ahead with them following. "Come on, come on!" Casper yelled, as they followed. "We have to get down to the lower level before those things make it here," Ross urged.

"I knew it!" Buzz screamed, "I fucking knew they'd do this."

"Well, here," Casper said handing him a gun and clip, "On your way out, you have my permission to take a few of them down with you. Good luck."

"Wait—where's Gary?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied running off, "Becky is gone, too."

"We'll look for him on the way," Ross assured her.

"Bye Ana," he said waving as he ran off.

"Good luck Buzz," she replied running off.

They ran through the rapidly emptying corridors and rushed down the steps jumping on to the floors and rushing past the escapees. They ran along the stairwell and finally emerged upon the corridors that led to the artillery room. "The elevator will be faster," Ana argued.

"No, that's a death trap," Ross explained, "This is easier."

"Don't stop walking," Casper urged as they rushed along the corridors.

"They're not in yet," Ana noticed waving her gun.

"They'll be here," Ross warned, "They're faster than we think."

**NEW YORK…**

"What time is it?" asked Clark.

"10am," replied Peter. Rick stumbled very slowly along the street like a baby learning to walk. He looked around almost as if he was trying to keep his path silent from the others and gave a groan leaning against the wall. After an hour, he'd made his way through the rows of cars and walking dead and stood at the corner of the library building looking around with a growl. He etched slowly along the front of the steps, and walked up finally making it to the door. He looked in through the window seeing Alex eating from the can. They were talking under their breaths oblivious to his presence. He looked back noticing the others had started following him and now he had a crowd around him. He staggered along the front and slowly stepped up to the door.

Alex and Debra gasped frightened hearing the slow pounding at the door. "Stay here," Debra whispered running up the steps. Alex whimpered and looked through the window noticing Rick at the door. She drew a smile and sat up, "It's okay, guys!" she said, "It's just Rick, he's back!" Peter gave a horrified gasp, "No, Alex, no!" He pushed Debra aside and darted down the steps with the others behind him as Alex made her way through the door, "Rick?" she asked with a smile, "How'd you get out there?" She unlocked the doors and saw him look up at her with blood covered lips. She yelped and stood back, but it was too late.

They'd discovered her and began crashing through the windows and doors, smashing and tumbling in to the room. She cried out in horror crawling back as they burst in through the door and approached her, "No, no!" she screamed frantically cornered, and looking for an escape, "Please, don't!"

"Alex!" he screamed yanking his axe from the table he tossed it smacking two of the dead across the skulls and attempted to fight them off. Her small body disappeared under a group of them as her frantic screams echoed louder than ever and were muffled by their growls.

"No!" Debra screamed with a cry.

"Get back!" Peter screamed. Clark rushed for the totebag in a mad panic and fell back as they literally began exploding through the windows crashing down on to him.

"No, god no!" he cried crawling away. They grabbed on to his leg and pulled him back to them as he cried out scratching at the floor. Debra rushed to him and began smacking them with the chairs. Clark fought them off with what little strength he had as Peter fought off the dead with his axe securing the door, "Debra, Clark, come on!" he screamed. Debra fell to the floor and yanked him by the arm as Clark attempted to crawl to her. By then they'd already began eating in to his leg as he gave an agonizing scream to her, "Run!" he cried, "Run!" She gave a whimper standing up. Peter yanked her from behind and pulled her to him as she cried out watching them digging in to Clark's body hungrily.

"Clark, no!" she screamed.

"We have to go!" he replied blasting his shot gun hectically, "Go up, I'll follow!" He reached for the tote bag of weapons but fell back as they gathered around him. He was only able to yank the small pistol from the corner and anxiously crawled to the fire exit. He sat on the steps and slammed the door behind him locking it down as the smashing fists emerged from behind. Alex lay on the floor, her body torn limb from limb, as they fought for her arms and intestines, Clark had already been devoured. He watched still in horror, his tongue sticking out, as one tore in to his throat ferociously.

**FLORIDA…**

The dead emerged from all corners of the base as the screams, the horrified screams began. They pummeled through the square, the crowds of people screamed and cried out running for safety as they splashed in through the doors. All those months of false alarms had led to their demise, and when they finally realized they were really in danger, it was too late. People were being lost in crowds; others had walked right in to the hordes of undead. Many had no hope and were mowed down in the enveloping of cannibals that awaited them without mercy.

The three burst through the artillery range and saw two other soldiers holding their weapons confused and oblivious. One of the few soldiers who refused to accept the offer with conscience, and because Ross refused; unlike the traitors on the base, the soldiers followed Ross and went to bat for him. As the screams began echoing from within the stairwell, the soldiers began firing as the majors and generals casually rushed along the launch pad and slipped in to the cockpits of the running helicopters awaiting them with open arms.

"Okay, we have all the soldiers evacuated," The Major announced, "Onward and upward, gentlemen." He sat in the helicopter and closed the door.

"We're ready to depart," the pilot announced over the radio, "ETA for Fiddler's Green: two hours. Stand by." They hovered over the launch pad, spun, and flew off.

"Lieutenant! Hey, Lieutenant!" Private Guillory said a laugh, "What's up?"

"You don't know?" Ross asked stashing weapons.

"No," Private Delrossi replied, "What the fuck is going on?"

"They're letting those things in," Casper replied, "Right now. We have to get out of here!" They looked at each other in horror and rushed to their side looting for the weapons, "I thought they said it was just a plan," Guillory replied.

"You knew about this?" asked Ana.

"We sure did," replied Delrossi, "We wouldn't go unless the lieutenant agreed."

"How long have you two been here?" Ross asked rushing around.

"A few hours," Guillory explained, "We saw the others walk off, and we just figured they were blowing off steam. We didn't know they were stabbing us in the back."

"They're coming in fast," Ana urged.

"They're like snails," Delrossi replied running back and forth, "You think they're slow, but one minute they're down at the end of the hall, and next thing you know they're trying to bite you. If you ask me, lieutenant, we all under-estimated them. No one is safe in this world anymore."

"I think we all under-estimated the superiors," Ross declared.

"Who thought they'd be so cold-hearted?" Guillory said.

"Where the fuck is Becky?" asked Casper arming himself from head to toe.

"I don't know, private," replied Delrossi, "But some boy ran through here not too long ago. Screaming like a banshee."

"Gary," Ana though.

"How much time we got?" asked Guillory. The doors slammed open bursting from the frames as the walking dead poured in through the doors. They all looked on in horror as they approached them, "Never mind," replied Delrossi. She grabbed a rifle and stepped forward opening fire with a howl.

"Pack it up," Guillory ordered, yanking a chain gun from the rack "We'll hold them off!"

Ana looked back as the fire rained down upon the dead, "But--"

"--Less talk, Ana, less talk!" Casper urged. They ran to the door and pressed the code hearing a whirr as it stalled.

"Fuck!" Ross yelled.

"What? What?" asked Casper.

"The code isn't working!" Ross yelled.

"You're the lieutenant!" Casper screamed.

"They changed the code," he said pounding the pad.

"Can you bypass it or something?" she asked.

"Yeah, hold on," he replied pressing the pad. Doors to quarters burst open as the scream and frantic cries echoed through the halls. No one there stood a chance as they burst through the doors closing in on them. "What's going on?" asked Delrossi dropping the empty rifle to the floor.

"I'm working on it!" Ross screamed.

"Hurry it up, Delrossi!" Guillory screamed firing off the chain gun holding them back. "I'm out," he replied.

"I'm up," she replied drawing her shotgun blasting away, "Come on, you walking mannequins, come on!"

"What I wouldn't give for a bazooka, right now," he laughed.

"We got grenades," she explained.

"Hurry up, hurry up," Casper urged as three of the dead approached.

"I'm trying, god damnit!" Ross replied pressing the buttons.

"Buy us time!" Ana declared anxiously.

"How much!" Casper screamed blasting one with his semi-automatic.

"Five minutes," replied Ross.

"You have **_two_**!" Casper demanded. He tore the shot gun from Ana's hand and cocked it blasting one, turned left, blasted, rolled it, cocked it, and blasted. He popped down the barrel and quickly popped in the shells, cocked it, and shot as one nearly jumped on to him. "The dead are growing, and my ammo is shrinking!" Casper screamed. "Okay, okay, okay, okay," Ross urged, "Now, got it!"

"Come on, come on!" Ana screamed as the doors blasted open.

"Fuck," Guillory said quickly being cornered.

"Just go, just go! Take care of yourself lieutenant!" Delrossi replied firing madly.

"We're not leaving without you!" Casper screamed.

"Don't worry about us," Guillory howled over the gunfire, "We got this thing by the balls!" Ross pulled them back, "You heard them." He pressed in the code as the doors slid shut with a boom.

"Well," Delrossi said dropping her rifle, "So many shitheads, so little time."

"So much ammo," joked Guillory.

"We're going to die," she said with a laugh, "**_A lot_**."

"I don't mind it," Guillory declared.

"I imagine being torn apart is painful," she shrugged.

"Only for a little while," Guillory declared grabbing the chain gun, "But the joke's on them, we'll be dead. This is what I signed on for, babe."

"Since you're the last person I'll see, I love you," she smirked.

"Let's make them sing for their supper," he said with a tear in his eye. The room was literally flooded with them from all corners as they re-loaded and went back to their business.

They opened fire with thunderous howls. Bullets scattered along the hordes, the gunfire deafening, but the growls and groans that echoed in the large room were louder. The space was becoming smaller and smaller with every second. Finally Delrossi was cornered and fired anxiously and they lunged on to her. Guillory looked back firing hearing Delrossi scream in agony as they dug in to her chest ripping her from the inside out. She stopped screaming suddenly and looked over at Guillory with wide-eyes. They began devouring her whole. He panted struggling to hold up the chain gun and fired desperately. They came and came one after the other, almost endlessly. The whir of the empty chain gun echoed loudly. He dropped it and turned to reach for another weapon, but was yanked from behind.

He let out a shriek of pain, the mangled hands clawing in to his face, the others bit in to his arms and legs. He cry out reaching for a grenade, yanked one from the shelf by its pin and was torn apart as the grenade went off blowing everything up within the room to flames.


	16. Eve of Destruction: Conclusion

"The ramp leads in to the barracks," Casper explained. They ran down the long dark corridors leading through tunnels, the place where the dead had begun seeping in through. They took shots left and right as they emerged through the shadows one by one.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I know you don't trust me, but try," Casper declared. They turned the corners and looked down the pitch black tunnels.

"Why should I?" she asked.

"Because I know these tunnels more than either of you," he declared.

"They're still out by the door," she explained.

"They won't get through for a good while," Casper assured her.

"This is just a cakewalk," Ross said pointing, "Wait until we make it out from the barracks." Up above as the dead tore every moving being apart feasting on others along the floor, the general had escaped the room leaving behind his men and made it alone through the tunnels looking for a way out. The few whom were lucky had all escaped through the doors and exits and were now out on the land, the wilderness, and had to fend for themselves from there on in. Some left together, and others parted ways.

"Keep moving," Casper said keeping his gun drawn in front, "We're almost there." Ana panted wiping the sweat from her face and shot ahead. They slowly walked through the dark corridor, their guns drawn as footsteps could be heard in the darkness. Casper stepped forward and attempted to look through the blanket of pitch darkness. He quickly drew his gun looking down at Gary who stood bunched in a corner.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," Casper complained as Ana rushed to him.

"Gary, are you okay?" she asked helping him from the corner.

"I hid here," he explained, "Some of them were chasing me."

"Come out of there, you're safe now," she replied grabbing his hand.

"Great," complained Casper, "All we need now is a yappy dog named Skip, and we'll have all levels of annoying."

"How did you get down here?" asked Ross.

"I saw some of them coming down the stairs," he explained holding a cut arm, "And I just ran for my life. I ended up here and got lost."

"You're coming with us, okay?" she said holding his hand.

"Okay," he replied.

"But you stay close," Ross explained, "And when we say run, you run as fast as you can, got it?" He nodded looking down.

"Well, that was sweet," Casper said, "Oh yeah, does anyone remember that we're being tailed by flesh eating cannibals?"

"Come on," Ross huffed leading them away.

"I hear them," Gary warned looking around.

"Quiet," Casper whispered, "We need to hear them, too."

"They're coming up the East end," Ross said pointing down a ramp.

"The South end," Casper replied.

"How'd they get in so quickly?" asked Ana.

"All the "exits" they gave us are now entrances," Casper declared with dread.

Three undead soldiers burst through a door in the distance. The door smashed open sliding to the floor and they emerged in to the dim light quickly catching wind of the foursome and gave growls.

"And here they come," Casper said jerking his head.

"Run," Ross ordered. They turned speeding down the corridors, as the monsters groaned running after them madly. They sped down the ramp and past the pipes and furnaces. The heavy weight of the guns had slowed them down considerably, and their predators were slowly catching up with them. "They're coming!" Gary screamed.

They ran down the ramp as the three soldiers rushed behind them through the darkness. Ana, Gary, and Ross sped up as Casper lagged behind them, looking back and running as hard as he could. "Casper, hurry!" Ross screamed. Suddenly Casper stopped and turned as Ana and Ross looked back slowing down.

"Casper, what the fuck are you doing!" screamed Ana.

"Shut up!" he replied pointing his gun, one eye closed as he aimed. They rushed down the ramp out of the dark growling with their arms ahead as he shot, blasting a hole through the soldier's head knocking it to the side, he turned shooting the other down, as the last came rushing quickly. He shot again and heard the loud click; empty cartridge.

"Oh, shit," he muttered looking at his gun.

"Casper, come on, run!" Ross screamed from afar.

"Fuck," Casper nodded in disbelief and emptied the cartridge but before he could re-load the zombie came charging. Instantly, he grabbed it by the arms throwing it to the side and turned backing up as the zombie stood up charging again. Casper ran at him and they clashed staggering back. Casper grabbed its arms and slammed his head against face knocking him back against the wall. The zombie staggered back and fell down attempting to get up as Casper quickly reached for his cartridge reloaded and within an instant, shot. The charging zombie lurched back, its head exploding from the back as the bullet blasted into it. Casper lowered his gun and exhaled calmly as he looked down onto the corpse.

Another of them lurched out from the darkness with a growl jumping on top of him. He attempted to bite at his shoulder. Casper yelped trying to throw it off his back. He flipped it over his shoulder and staggered back shooting it in the head. He stepped back as the corpse growled still moving, "What the f--!" The corpse jumped back on him knocking the gun on the floor as he struggled. It struggled mounting him as suddenly it shoved its hand down his throat. He gagged loudly, wincing as the creature growled forcing its hand down as he struggled. "Fuck!" Ross rushed up the ramp, "No matter what happens, keep running!" He told her as he ran up the ramp and blasted the corpse. He shot, its brain splattered all over Casper's face. Casper shoved it off him and quickly stood up. Ross tore Casper from the ground and they ran down the floor after Ana and Gary who was already up ahead.

"Come on, come on!" Ana screamed noticing them running behind her. They rushed in to an elevator and turned. The doors closed behind them quickly. "See what happens!" Ross yelled at Casper, "You act like a daredevil and you nearly get yourself killed."

"Okay," Ana said trying to calm him down, "I think he learned his lesson." Casper rubbed his face from the brain fragments and leaned against the wall retching loudly. After having that monster's hands down his throat he was going to feel it for days,

"Fuck--" he muttered as he vomited all over the corner of the elevator. Gary cringed hiding behind Ana. "You're going to be okay?" asked Ross.

"No," he replied spitting on to the floor, "God damn."

"What floor?" she asked standing by the button pad.

"Two," Ross replied.

"It didn't even go down," Casper said.

"What didn't?" she asked.

"I shot it, in the head, and he kept coming at me," he explained in surprise.

"When we get through the barracks, keep your guns drawn at all times," Ross warned, "We may not be shooting at those things only."

"How's your arm?" she asked lifting his sleeve.

"It burns," he replied, "It was a close shot. I've never been hit before."

"What happens after we escape?" asked Gary.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, kid, I promise," Casper assured him.

"We're here," Ross said standing in front of the door.

"Wait!" Ana said stopping the elevator, "Is this a good idea?"

"What?" asked Casper.

"What if they're already in the barracks?" she asked.

"Only one way to find out," Ross replied drawing his gun. They stood side by side pointing ahead and opened up the elevator doors. There was a long silence amidst the corridor.

The barracks were quiet, and finally they stepped out from the elevator. They turned pointing ahead. Luckily the dead hadn't found the barracks, but the screams of suffering could be heard above. Thumps and crashes, running and howling echoed from every corner. Gary gave a frightened and sad whimper looking back thinking about all the victims being ravaged mercilessly. "Let's keep going," Ross said. They walked past the cells quickly and proceeded to the door. Casper stopped suddenly and turned looking in to the shadows. He saw a foot in the darkness and noticed the mysterious shape.

"No, it can't be," Casper whispered.

"What?" Ana asked walking back to him. She stood beside him and held her mouth muffling her whimpers.

"She's dead," Ana whimpered.

"How did this happen?" he asked.

"She must have caught on to something early," Ross said with a quiver, "God damn, those bastards."

"What makes you think that?" asked Casper.

"What other reason is there?" he asked.

"Her face," Ana said in disgust.

"We have to go," Gary whimpered.

"You made it here," the general said walking out from a door. They lurched back in surprise. He stumbled over to them in astonishment and relief.

"How did you get out of that office?" asked Casper.

"I escaped through the vents," he explained, "The others didn't fare so well."

"What happened to you?" asked Ross.

"A few of them bit me," he replied holding his arm, "But I'm okay."

"You're a dead man walking," Casper remarked with a half smirk.

"I can get you out of here," he argued, "I-I can. I'm sorry for what happened to you all, but I want to help now."

"Because we survived," Ana deduced.

"Why her?" Casper asked angrily, "Why Becky?"

"She was dangerous," he argued.

"Liar. She didn't have a mean bone in her body," Ana declared.

"She was dangerous to us," he replied.

"To think," Casper said with gritted teeth drawing his gun, "I defended you sons of bitches. I sacrificed a lot for you people."

"They were ordered to make it quick," he replied, "I can't be accounted for them and their twisted doings."

"You're not even sorry," Casper nodded in tears, "You're just as cold as those things out there."

"Don't shoot," he pleaded, "Please." Gary drew a gasp clutching to Ana as Becky's body began to move in the shadows and stood up. "Ana…" Gary whispered. She looked over by the cell and saw Becky limp toward them slowly. "Get up against her cell," Casper declared. They all looked over at him surprised he'd seen her too. "Why?" he asked. "I want to kill you where she was," Casper explained, "But you deserve it, she didn't." He looked over at them frightened and held his hands up. Becky rushed out and grabbed him from behind. He yelped in horror and attempted to struggle. Casper pressed his foot against his chest keeping him still as Becky tore at his neck and face viciously.

Her own face had been shattered in seven places. They'd sought out to make her suffer for a single innocent mistake and moment of vulnerability, and Casper watched as she bit down on to his cheek hungrily. He let out horrifying screams squirming with no luck and fell to the floor. She pulled his body as far as she could within the cell and continued eating him. Casper stood back watching in disbelief, her mangled face tearing in to him. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here," he whispered.

"We have to go," Ana whispered, "We can't help her anymore."

"Come on," Ross ordered. They rushed off closing the door behind them and ran down the ramps as fast as they could.

**NEW YORK…**

Debra paced around the roof crying aloud and panting as she searched desperately for an escape route. The banging on the roof door continued thunderously as they began gathering below scratching and grabbing for them. Sooner or later they'd break in through the roof door, and their time was limited. "What do we do?" she asked, "What do we do?" She looked over at Peter for guidance as he simply stood at the edge of the roof looking down with a grimace at the piranhas that awaited him below.

"Peter," she said yanking his arm, "Peter! They're going to break through, we have to leave, now!"

"They have every corner," he replied with a whisper. He turned and slid down to the floor. He gave a slight smirk and looked over at her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Did I uh--did I ever tell you about my sister?"

"W-what?" she asked in tears, "What are you talking about?"

"My sister," he explained, "She was uh--she was my girl, my heart." He chuckled in remembrance and looked over at Debra who held his arm crying, "Before I became a firefighter, I was a paramedic, I was one for five years...five years goes by so fast, y'know? So, one day I just couldn't handle watching people die in front of me...so, rather than watching death, I tried to prevent it, so I became a fireman. My sister though..." he pulled out a revolver from his pocket, and opened the barrel, pulled out a hand full of bullets, and began loading the gun, "We were attached at the hip, you know? She wouldn't even go out onto the stage at her graduation unless I was in the audience. Before she graduated college, she was nervous and didn't really know what she'd do after she graduated. So I couldn't think of anything else to say...I said, "Ana, you have a warm heart, and a strong sense of charity. You should get into the business of saving lives."

The banging and groaning became louder and resonant behind them. Peter proceeded to load the revolver, "So she became a nurse. And a damn good one, too. I warned her though, I said "you're going to see people die in your hands, and you're going to see a lot of sick shit". Being the stubborn fool that she was, she became a nurse anyway. Sometimes, I wondered if that blonde hair of hers clogged her brainwaves." He chuckled and clicked back the hammer to the gun, "Everything was so terrible when it started, I never had the chance to get to her, to say goodbye."

"Where is she?" asked Debra.

"Dead," he replied caressing her face, "I'm guessing. There's a good chance of it. I wish I could have helped her."

"Peter," Debra said in tears, "What are you doing?"

"I have two bullets in here," he explained, "One for you, the other for me."

"You don't know what you're saying," she argued in disbelief, "We can make it."

"No, we can't," he replied, "There's no escape...we're stuck here." He clicked the hammer back and sat down at the edge of the roof leaning back as she looked down at him, whimpering in sadness, the crowds of undead lingering below.

"So?" he said looking up at her, "what do you say?"

"We can't," she argued, "We can't give up this easily."

"I've been fighting for months, now," he explained, "In any time now, those things will break through that cheap metal door and get to us...I'd rather be dead here than being their lunch, or worse, one of them. I have never given up at anything in my life...but I was also taught to know when you're beaten. We're beaten, Debra." She wiped her tears and looked around, still hoping for a rescue or mode of escape. There was no way down, there was no way out, and they were breaking in. She sighed and knelt down slowly in front of him, "How do we do it?" she asked with a whisper.

"I'll do it," he replied, "I'd rather have you go first." He caressed her face as tears ran down his eyes and sighed, "You know," he said with a smile, "You remind me of her. I guess that's why I liked being around you so much." She jumped on to him hugging him tightly and slid back on to her knees wiping her tears. Debra closed her eyes slowly, tears pouring down her face, he held the gun up to her head, clicked the hammer, and shot. With one blast, she fell flat onto the ground, blood pouring from her skull as he looked on and began whimpering aloud. "Oh, my god!" he shouted crying louder as the banging persisted mercilessly.

Finally, he sighed, leaned his head back, and looked up into the sky, "God have mercy on me," he whispered, "I love you, Ana." He clicked the hammer, jammed it into his mouth... and shot. With one loud blast life seemed to slow down before him, his childhood memories flooding back. The blast caused his head to jerk back violently and he went limp and fell to his side, his brains covered along the wall in back of him. Suddenly, there arose a silence as the wind blew through the desolate skyscrapers. They fought, and fought, but in the end they admitted it to themselves, there was no escape.

**FLORIDA…**

"So what now?" Ana asked.

"I can see the daylight," Gary said looking up at the cracks in the tunnel ceilings, "We're not even close," Casper argued.

"Stop right there!" the soldiers said holding their guns up.

"Wait—what are you doing?" Casper asked.

"Don't make a move Ross," they said keeping their guns drawn.

"Put your guns down, we're taking them with us," Casper declared.

"I didn't get any orders that you were coming down here," the soldier declared curiously. "I know," Casper replied, "It was a last minute thing."

Ross and Ana listened curiously, "We're headed out the end there," they explained. "There's an escape door down there?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied, "We just have to keep going down and it leads to an opening where they will be, but we can sneak through there, and make a break for it through the beach."

"Good job," Casper declared. He turned shooting them down and began re-loading. Ana scoffed, "For a minute there--"

"—Not anymore," he replied, "Look, I'm sorry for what I did. I didn't know what happened with Becky. But you have to trust me now. We can't be fighting each other here."

"Man has a point," Ross shrugged.

"Now we know where to go," Ana replied. The door to the barracks crashed down as the groups of undead seeped in through the door looking out on to the group, "Oh come on!" Casper yelled.

"Run, run!" Ross yelled firing ahead. They continued running through the corridors, Ross dropped his bag behind and ran up behind them with his pistols in tow, "Why did you do that?" Casper yelled.

"I need to drop the weight," Ross yelled running ahead.

They entered in to the next section of the hall. Ross and Casper ran up to the door and slid it shut as the groups slammed their fists against the doors. Much to their surprise, they'd tried prying it open. Ross and Casper rushed to the door again and struggled to close it grunting loudly. Ana stood back drawing her gun as Casper fought them off and pointed his gun shooting wildly. They grabbed on to his arm trying to pull him in, Ross yelled to him. Ana and Gary ran grabbing him and attempted to pull him back in to them. "They got me!" Casper yelled dropping his gun.

"Don't let go!" Ross yelled.

"No, no!" Casper screamed. They began biting in to his wrist. The blood splattered on the floor. Ana cried out attempting to pull him back. Gary crawled on the floor and saw his gun and went for it. But it was too late they'd grabbed on to him and pulled him into the hordes.

"No! No!" he yelled, "Ana, please help me!" he screamed reaching for the gun.

"No!" she screamed unable to grab for him. His body disappeared in to the crowds quickly enveloping him. Casper tore his arm back with a cry and staggered back tumbling to the floor. "Gary!" she screamed frantically banging the door, "Gary! Answer me! Gary!" She kicked and pounded the door frantically. "Ana, enough," Ross replied holding her back. He whispered in to her ear, "He's dead." She wiped the tears from her eyes looking down at the door and walked to Casper. He sat down against the wall and held his arm. "It's about time," he declared with a groan.

"Not you, too," she cried kneeling beside him.

"Oh come on," he replied panting, "It's okay.

"They really got in to you," Ross said in disbelief.

"It doesn't hurt that much," he assured them, holding his arm which was torn and bitten in to right down to the bone. "Cover it up," Ross whispered wrapping it with his shirt, "It will stop the bleeding."

"God, I wish I had known you better," Casper whispered looking to him, "We could have really been good friends."

"It's okay," Ross replied, "Really."

"I hate going away with regrets, you know," he said, "But, that comes with this package. God damn it. They're fast. And they… bite hard, too."

"What do we do?" she asked wiping her tears.

"You know how to escape," he replied with a shrug, "Don't be coy."

"No," she said with a quiver, "I…"

"…No," he said sternly, "You know damn well I'm already dead. Look at my arm. I tried to do what I could."

"You did that on purpose," Ross nodded, "Didn't you?"

"Jesus," Casper said with a smirk, "Good thing I'm dying before I became predictable, eh?"

"Why?" she asked.

"Taking one for the team," he declared. He grunted and leaned back sighing, "I'm not feeling good," he warned, "You two better go."

"I'm going to miss you," Ross said shaking his hand, "Good luck." He handed him a pistol and stood up walking ahead. "Hey, sexy," Casper said to Ana.

"Hey," she said with tears in her eyes, "I'm going to miss you so much."

"Same here," he sighed, "I wish I could have seen the beach with you. I've never seen one, before."

"I'll think of you when we're there," she promised.

"He's in love with you, you know?" he declared with a faint smile, "Ross."

"He is?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied breathing heavily, "That cock blocker. He's always had a thing for blondes… do you love him, too?"

"I don't know," she replied in tears.

"Be with him until your last moments," he suggested, "He's a great guy... excellent leader. I'd follow him to hell."

"We'll look after each other," she assured him.

"Get out of here, okay?" he said, "Before I go all rabid dog on you."

"Okay," she replied with tears in her eyes, "Good bye.

"Take care of yourselves," he said as she ran up to Ross, "Both of you! Take care of each other." He turned looking up at the door and gave a heavy cough, "Oh, shut up," he whispered hearing them pounding, "I'm going to join up, soon." He grunted looking down at his arm. They ran like bats out of hell down the halls and through the empty corridors, they'd seen the metal hatch leading to end and saw the light seeping in. "Come on, god," Ross whispered. He grabbed the handle and twisted it. He heard the door unlocked with a thump and he forced it up and open with a grunt. They emerged in to the light of the day. The ocean was smashing hard against the sand, the pelicans cawing in the distance

"Oh my god," she said looking out at the empty beach.

"Come on," Ross urged grabbing her hand. He turned and smacked the door down and locked it shut. They turned and ran down the hill on to the sand looking back as the dead emerged from the trees on the coast, "They're coming," she warned running down the grass slope.

"Look," Ross said pointing ahead, "The boat!"

"It's still there?" she asked in surprise.

"They left all the wrecks behind," Ross explained running through the sand. "It still works," Ana reminded, "It will take us away."

"Get on," he demanded. He turned and began shooting back as they crept up on them through the sand growling hungrily, "Ross!" She yelled jumping on to the deck. She swung her leg around and stood up looking over, "Ross, come on!" He stood on the beach shooting wildly and turned running in to the water and began anxiously pushing the boat out to the shore, "Ross, get on!" she pleaded reaching for him. "Hold on!" he yelled pushing it back in. It broke from the sand and began floating again in to the water. He ran for it and was tackled from behind falling in. He turned shooting it in the head and fumbled back up to his feet hanging on to the hull. "Reach for my hand!" she said reaching for him.

He held on to her arm and anxiously forced himself on to the hull dropping along the deck. The boat drifted away fast enough to avoid the onslaught of walking dead standing at the beach growling to them. Ana sat down looking over at them and rushed to Ross. He panted heavily sitting up, "Shit, that was close," he declared.

"Did they bite you?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine, I'm fine," he assured her. She kissed him repeatedly in relief and knelt down beside him. "We're safe, now," Ross assured her lying on the deck, "We're safe." She walked over to the edge of the deck and looked out on to the open beach swarming with the walking dead now. It was a safe haven once, a safe haven she'd been able to call home for a while, but the civilization the people built was brought down by greed and deception.

Casper, Gary, Becky, and everyone else, all innocent people, all victims were gone in the haze of corruption. She lowered her head giving a whimper. Ross sat beside her and put her head on his shoulder looking on to the beach, "We're going to be fine here," Ross assured her, "I'll protect you." She looked up at him and kissed him and watched the island fade off in to the horizon.

"I don't know where we're drifting," Ross said with a scoff.

"That's okay," Ana replied, "We'll keep going. We'll keep going."

**THE END…**

**… Coming Soon: The Dead Chronicles, Part Four: Riders of the Storm - **Meet Rush. He hunts Zombies. And he has two stowaways he's not prepared for.

**Disclaimer:** Author Felix Vasquez does not own the rights to Dawn of the Dead or the concept. Characters, scenarios, and "The Dead Chronicles" are a copyright of Felix Vasquez.


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